


Between the Ends of Time

by Lehenne



Series: All Systems Compromised [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: #AWBB 12 Days of Whumpmas, Angst, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Connor Deserves Happiness, CyberLife (Detroit: Become Human) is Terrible, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, android whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:33:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28046997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lehenne/pseuds/Lehenne
Summary: The peaceful revolution just passed.Connor learns how to be Alive. It's not a linear process.Hank learns how to be a father again. He realises he never lost it.The DPD learns how to change their views. It goes surprisingly well.This is a 'prequel' of the events of 'All systems compromised'.These are the Android Whump 12 Days of Whumpmas organised by the Android Whump discord server !
Relationships: Connor & Detroit Police Department Officers (Detroit: Become Human), Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Hank Anderson & Connor, Hank Anderson & Upgraded Connor | RK900
Series: All Systems Compromised [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863667
Comments: 34
Kudos: 101





	1. Glitch

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this work is for the 12 Days of Whumpmas  
> The twelve chapters (+ a bonus one) will be chronological and kind of follow each other (some of them can be stand-alones (I will say which ones)  
> Hope you enjoy :D
> 
> The Discord Server in question : https://discord.gg/KzpTbc3s

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This first Chapter can be read as a Stand-Alone in this series ;)

Connor was a prototype, as he very helpfully pointed out every time he'd introduce himself, or even just to remind people of his status. The most advanced android prototype, in fact, and probably the last ever CyberLife designed android in all of existence, along with his, what, brother ? An RK900 they'd found a week ago in the underbelly of CyberLife tower, ceded to the android nation as a gesture of goodwill by the government. The RK900 was probably supposed to be the finished product of the RK series, and was staying in New Jericho for now; Markus had insisted on keeping him among other androids to help him through deviancy. Connor was happy that his brother had people to help him and a place to stay; On his end, Connor had been permitted to remain in the DPD during the night, as he spent most of his down-time working anyway. It turned out that a revolution resulted in a ludicrous amount of chaos.

Connor was a prototype and he glitched, as prototypes tend to do. It was mostly benign things that went unnoticed, things like thinking 'Stir coffee from left to right' that would result in stirring from right to left. Those, he corrected silently and did not disclose the, frankly speaking, irrelevant error.

On a much more... Embarrassing occasion, Detective Reed once saw him walk face-first into a wall, and that, neither men would ever forget. Connor had been thinking 'turn left', and for some reason -Glitches did not explain themselves after all- He'd turned right. He'd resolutely ignored the Detective's almost hysteric fit of laughter, very aware that everyone in the precinct would know what had happened, and marched down toward the archive room as he'd intended, trying to snuff out the tightness in his chest and the blue flush of his face. 

The first day of December, as if an intangible, imaginary line was crossed, a set of nondescript decorations had been set across the whole city, and even into the DPD completely overnight. As soon as he'd set foot outside the archive room, where he spent most of his nights working, he'd faltered; Dozens of fairy-light garlands had been strung all over the precinct, topped by shimmering silver and gold garlands and it was- So pretty.

He'd let his eyes roam around the room, taking all of the decorations in, letting his preconstruction software run rampant predicting the patterns of the slow-shifting colors of the little LEDs, and then analysing the changes on the garlands above. He'd approached one of them and felt the irresistible urge to touch the little lights, just because he could now. Just a light brush against the reinforced glass. Minimum strength required.

'Wires got crossed', the expression went, minimum somehow turned into maximum and the small glass dome shattered between his fingers, jagged edges embedded into the thin chassis of his finger-tips, the tiny wounds trickling Thirium onto the ground. Connor had stared at it in bafflement, trying to find the source of all those stupid glitches, correcting at least this one because it's all he could do at the moment. 

Hank had joined him two minutes later, finding him staring at his own wounds, a puddle of Thirium at his feet, and he'd flipped.

“What the fuck are you doing ? Why are you bleeding ? Why aren't you doing- God, what's up with you ?” The Lieutenant'd been pissed, and Connor'd turned to him slowly, eyes wide, finger held up in the air and pissing blood. 

“Lieutenant,” Connor's voice had wavered, his expression scrunching up in distress. “It hurts.” Hank'd spluttered, panicked a little, and then frantically dragged the stunned android to the infirmary, because he had no idea where else to bring him, and it was just a small finger cut, so a band-aid could do the trick surely. It did. 

“How did that happen ?” The Lieutenant had stared at him with furrowed brows and crossed arms, and Connor'd sat silently on the infirmary bed, eyes on his bandaged finger. 

“A glitch...” He'd murmured, almost too quietly for the human to hear, averting his gaze and hunching in on himself. He wasn't sure why, but the admission felt... Dangerous. 

“A glitch,” the Lieutenant repeated dully. “You're gonna have to tell me what the fuck it means because I have no fucking clue.” Something tight and painful had rushed through Connor's frame, making him cower a bit more from the man's glare.

“It means- It's- When a contrary instruction is executed by the system...”

“What system ?” The Lieutenant'd barked impatiently, making Connor flinch slightly; Last time the man had sounded like that, he'd pointed a gun at him.

“Mine,” The android spluttered, “My- My brain, if you will. I'm a prototype,” he explained, making the Lieutenant roll his eyes in annoyance. “CyberLife didn't have time to test and patch all of my glitches, but I'm doing it as they happen, so this won't happen again I swear, I'm sorry, Lieutenant, I should've told you and-”

“Okay, just-” The man'd raised his hand in a stop motion. “Slow down. Don't get your pants in a twist, I don't really care.” Connor had done a really good job at hiding the hurt he'd felt at that, but he couldn't blame his partner. Their relationship had taken a toll the night of the revolution, when Connor had almost killed Markus and then the Lieutenant on that rooftop. Fortunately, the man had defended himself by pushing him to his destruction, and for that, Connor was glad.

“Sorry,” Connor'd breathed out, and that had been that.

One time though, it horrifically happened in front of a delegation of higher-ups. The assistant commissioner, accompanied by a commander and two deputy inspectors came into the precinct to check in on the state of the troupes and, more importantly, it seemed, to see for themselves the efficiency of the sole android-detective in the whole country. 

Needless to say, Connor was tense and focused. He was... Stressed out of his mind. He was good at keeping a poker face, fortunately. The four higher-ups had requisitioned Captain Fowler's office for their debrief, and had called in the Lieutenant and Connor. Enough additional seats had been brought in for the humans but not for the android, which he noted absently; He didn't mind anyway. 

“Get me a coffee,” the commissioner barked at the android as soon as he'd entered the room. “Black, three sugars.” The humans weren't looking at him, and Connor was glad, because he couldn't suppress his flinching completely.

He focused all of his attention on making that coffee, ignoring the rest of the precinct very hard but unable to keep his systems from registering the whispering and the snickering. He also failed to suppress the blue blush creeping up on his cheeks and ears. He walked back to the office slowly and carefully, artificially turning his liquid cooling system to dissipate the heat from his face. 

In the office, he weaved his way to the desk, where the commissioner was still ignoring him, on purpose it seemed. And Connor, in turn, was ignoring the three other higher-ups staring at him with avid curiosity, their expressions waking some very unpleasant feeling in his CPUs. 

For his defense, he was thinking very hard about depositing the cup slowly, carefully, and precisely on the table. But as glitches would have it, the opposite happened. Or could it be called the opposite ? Connor didn't know. He still occasionally thought back on it, the way his hold on the mug shifted, the way his bio-muscles tensed and his arm coiled back. The way the mug flew across the room in slow-motion, his preconstruction program helpfully tracing the path of the projectile in advance. The way the ceramic shattered against the glass wall and the coffee splattered everywhere, some of it on the commander's pristine white leather shoes. The hush that fell on the room still rung in his audio processors when he replayed the memory back. 

A flurry of frantic apologies tumbled past his lips the micro-second his CPUs scrambled back into gear, mostly a mix of I'm So Sorry's and I Didn't Mean To's and Please You Must Believe Me's and I Fixed The Issue's and-

“Connor !” Captain Fowler commanded, silencing the android immediately. He straightened his back and clasped his hands behind his back, dreading the coming punishment reprimand. “What just happened ?” 

“A- A glitch, sir, I'm a prototype and although I may be the most advanced, my software isn't exempt of-” 

“Alright, alright,” the Captain stopped his rambling. “You say that it won't happen again ?”

“No sir, I already fixed the error, this particular occurrence won't-”

“Enough. I get it.” Connor shut his mouth instantly. “Go ahead and call someone from the cleaning team,” Captain Fowler pointed at his right temple with a sigh, before turning back to the commissioner. “Please, why don't you proceed ?”

“Excuse me ?” The commissioner bellowed. “This glitchy android just- And you keep i- Him on your team ? It- He's a liability and a danger to everyone else ! What if someone had stood there ?” The man finished his shouting, pointing at the coffee splatters slowly trickling to the floor, the carpet underneath absorbing the steaming puddle without a care in the world. “What if that had happened on the field ?”

“Fortunate that he isn't cleared for field duty then. And you heard him, he's fixed the issue,” the Captain countered. Connor was pretty sure the Captain protected him only because he was part of his team, and maybe to spite the commissioner that Connor knew the Captain didn't like, but it still made him irrationally happy and gave him the confidence to do something, in hindsight, extremely stupid.

“May I add-” His voice barely wavered, and he plowed down like he wasn't addressing the second-highest person in command of the whole city's police force. “Such troubleshootings only occur outside of field settings, as all field-related glitches have been resolved during my alpha phase, as Cyber Life focused on those to ensure optimal performances. Also, and although I understand that my capacities to file in paperwork is just as valuable as field-work, I think I would be just as useful on the field-”

“Okay, stop,” the Commissioner ordered, snuffing Connor's resolve away. “You're not getting on the field any time soon, not until official laws pass anyway, so you can cut the essay short.” Connor lowered his head, shame trying to burn his face off, glad that he'd turned his liquid cooling systems on earlier. He felt like... Running away and hiding in a hole somewhere, never to be seen again, and as he felt his stress levels rise, it became harder and harder to stay still and fight the prickling sensation at the edge of his eyes.

“I vouch for him in the field,” the Lieutenant piped up, grumbling almost against his wishes. “The kid's perfectly reliable and saved my life twice in less than a week.” 

Connor did not listen to the rest of the meeting. The Lieutenant's words replayed again and again on his HUD, each time making something warm and soft bloom in his chest.


	2. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the DPD's annual holiday celebration. The first party Connor ever attends to.   
> Hank gets a trip to the past.
> 
> Stand-Alone

Every year, around the fourteenth of December, the DPD organized a 'Holiday night celebrations'. It had been set during that time so everyone would feel welcome, regardless of personal beliefs. Holiday night Celebrations entailed cheery music, light alcohol and soft drinks alternatives, over-the-top decorations, and games. Games of all sorts; Card games, board games, darts, and even a couple of VR sets. 

Connor was content with staying out of everyone's way. His relations with the rest of the station were slowly improving, and he wasn't about to undo everything now by making a fool of himself. He restrained himself from keeping an eye on the Lieutenant's alcohol intake, as he had no say in his life habits, even though the man was starting to warm up to him again, sometimes willingly taking him to his eating places. 

While he stood some distance away from a poker table to watch it unfold, Connor assigned a partition of processes to read the messages Connor -87 had sent him. Their correspondence had started a few days ago, on a startling note;

>[Greetings, Connor -53. I had been wondering why I have not seen you since the day we met, but it has just come to my attention that the members of Jericho have not been welcoming your presence into their midst. I feel a bit foolish for thinking you simply did not want to have anything to do with me without having asked you. As such, I'm sending you this message to ask if you'd like for us to be in touch from now on.] At first, Connor had been wary and it took him nearly an hour to craft his answer.

>[It would be my humble pleasure to get to know you, but I wouldn't want to abuse your innocence. You should know of my past and the reasons I'm unwelcomed by Jericho before making up your mind.] Connor wasn't sure what answer he wished for the most; He obviously very much wanted to get to know his 'brother' better, but he didn't want to hurt him in any way. The answer that came wasn't one he expected at all.

>[I already know everything and more; The residents aren't shy about sharing their opinions, and I'm not sure I appreciate most of them.] The message was longer, but Connor had needed a few minutes to calm down and process the euphoria that had threatened to drown him in a puddle of tears.

Between then and now, they had talked about everything that they could think of, including their shared interest for soft things, shiny lights, and dogs, even though they were both pretty sure the last one stemmed from their social programming and not themselves.

>[Today, I witnessed the passing of a Branta Canadensis flock. It was very interesting to study their V flight formation, and their honking was very amusing and not melodious at all ! Have you ever seen one ?] Connor -87 had attached a video-clip of the geese passing over his head. It made Connor -53 smile to himself.

>[I have been working exclusively indoors as of late, so I haven't had the pleasure of seeing one of those for myself. They are very funny indeed and I look forward to-]

“Hey Tincan !” A loud voice tore his attention away from his message and back into the DPD. “What are you staring at us and smiling creepily for ?” Detective Reed sneered from the poker table while shuffling the deck of cards expertly. Connor blinked, taken by surprise.

“Oh, I'm sorry for unsettling you, I was not- I was conversing with my- Friend, RK900, via cybernetic connection, and-” The detective waved a hand dismissively, interrupting Connor once again. The android was beginning to think he was talking too much, 'rambling', as it was. 

“Huh...” Officer Miller turned to him, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Why don't you come over here ?” He pointed to the empty chair at the table.

“Oh I- Wouldn't want to impose on your game.”

“Well, you can't impose if you're invited,” Wilson smiled brightly. “So get down here and play with us.” Connor hesitated, then shuffled to the table, lowering himself into the chair too tensely to look natural. Detective Reed didn't look very happy with his presence, but he said nothing and distributed the cards silently. 

The humans were playing a drinking game version of poker, Officer Chen in charge of the alcohol distribution. It took three games and about four glasses each for the table to notice a major problem.

“Are you counting the cards ?” Reed asked suspiciously, shuffling the deck over and over while giving Connor the stink-eye.

“I- Yes ?” A general groan overtook the table, confusing Connor greatly.

“You're fucken' cheatin' !” Reed yelled angrily, pointing a finger at the android. “You're not winnin' if you're fuckin' cheatin'.” Connor pursed his lips and dismissed the detective's exhalation analysis from his HUD; He didn't need it to see that the man was drunk.

“I'm not cheating,” he defended himself, leaning away from the finger pointed at his chest. “That's how my... Brain works, I can't help it.” 

“Pfft, yeah, still cheatin',” Reed dismissed, blowing a raspberry into his newly topped glass, taking a sip of his punch. “We can't keep playing cards if you're gonna keep cheatin'.”

“I'm not !- I'm not cheating... I'm not doing it on purpose.” 

The conversation devolved into the search for a game Connor couldn't 'cheat' at, and the android was so surprised and... Warmed by the officers trying to include him that he forgot to tell them he could just stop playing. Darts and basketball were turned down immediately, already knowing the android would crush them all with his preconstruction thingy. The VR RPG was more of a discussion, but Connor finally butted in, explaining that as a 'simulated life-form' himself, the VR didn't sound as fun as the real world to him. Reed and Wilson devolved into a heated debate about what they should play, the others watching on the sidelines, apparently used to the occurrence.

“Can you drink alcohol ?” Officer Chen asked from the end of the table, where she was refilling glasses with the evening's punch. “'Cause it would be so funny to see one of you guys drunk.”

“I can ingest the equivalent of a shot glass for the needs of evidence sampling and social integration, but it won't have any effect on me.”

“Aw, well, whatever then,” Officer Chen huffed, distributing the glasses around the table. 

“Hey, how old are you anyway ?” Officer Miller giggled, his voice wavering a bit under the effects of the alcohol. 

“I was activated on the fifteenth of August this year,” he answered proudly, then proceeded to watch as the inebriated agents ran calculations on their fingers. Miller was the first to react.

“You're four months old ???” He almost shouted, attracting most of the rest of the precinct's attention, much to Connor's dismay. “You're my kid's age ! You're- You're a baby !” He continued just as loudly, and proceeded to dissolve in another feat of giggles. 

“Ah, well...” Connor wasn't sure what was funny, and he was a bit more reserved when he answered. “Technically, I only spent a night out in the field and was subsequently put back in stasis until November fifth...” There was another silence as the humans recalculated.

“So you're like one month old ??? You're even more of a baby !” The rest of the table burst into laughter then, Connor feeling lost and having no idea how to react. 

“Wait !” Officer Miller exclaimed as he got up, “I got the perfect game then !” He left promptly toward the soft room, leaving the rest of them wondering. He came back promptly, a colorful board game box in hands. “This game,” he announced cheerily, holding up the rainbow box, with 'CANDYLAND' written in bold pink letters, “is pure randomness. You can't predict anything, and you can't count cards, because there are no cards, just a wheel that one of us will spin for you so you don't.. Fuckin'... Calculate the rotation speed to land where you want to, or whatever.” Reed and Wilson doubled back in hysterical laughter for some reason, leaving the android confused once again. Officer Miller put the game in place, pushing the poker mat, chips and cards aside. 

“Okay, so, Connor, you'll be playing by the bab- beginner's rules; You don't get stuck on licorice, you don't go backward, and the Candy Castle is rainbow for you.” Miller had put down a very colorful mat on the desk, and Connor had to consciously keep his attention on the human explaining the rules to him. There were so many colors. “The rest of us are playing on hardcore mode, y'all know what that means,” the Officer concluded his explanation with a conspirational grin.

“Should we add the drinking rules on top, for a little more fun ?” Tina suggested with an equally toothy grin. A chorus of 'Deal's traveled around the table, and all of the players became oddly serious all of a sudden. They started playing, and no one would guess they were playing CandyLand from an outside perspective. The rules were very simple, but Connor gave it his all. 

But he lost. It wasn't a spectacular loss, nor a dramatic one, it was only CandyLand after all, he'd be told later. 

“HA, you lost!” Detective Reed started laughing again, an unsteady finger pointing at him. “Turns out you're useless without your fancy cheating programs, eh ?” Connor had his attention on the board, reconstructing the game's every moves, calculating a way to succeed the next time, because failure was unacceptable, as the alarm blaring in his HUD kept reminding him. He tried to dismiss the alarm, but the MISSION FAILURE kept sinking deeper and deeper. He'd get deactivated, he didn't know why he thought that, but he knew it f̶̛̱͔̈́a̶̬̣̟͌̈́̄̎i̷̢͆̃͜l̵̲̊̕u̸̘̥͚̙̓̾̅ṟ̶̬͉̲͘̕ė̷͓̓ ̵͇̕͝m̴̲͊͘͝ẻ̸̖͖͉͓ǎ̶͇͎̭͎̎͘͠n̷͚̺̱͍̋̈́͝ş̴̦͙̈́̾ ̵͈̈́̊͠d̷̪̫̪̯́̂͐ȇ̵̛̟͒s̶̖̖͖̓͝t̵̃̅̈́͜r̴̲̭͕͋͋̅u̷͈̩͂c̵̦̑͐̀t̶̙̘̤͂̽̃͝i̵͉͉̦͌̈́̽ö̵̞̞̐ń̵̢̥͓͂̑̽ He failed at everything he did, he wasn't even able to finish his original mission and even though he knew he didn't want to, he'd still failed, and the glitches and the Lieutenant still didn't trust him, he was- He was a failure.

* * *

It had been a long while since Hank had appreciated an evening like this one. He wasn't forced to take part in any of the activities, and they let him drink in peace. He'd even felt like engaging in conversation with some of the night shift about the new android laws that were passing at an incredible speed. No-one was acknowledging the others' previous opinions on the matter, ignoring the anti-android stickers and slogans on each other's stuff, instead choosing to marvel at Markus' speeches and methods to win over the country with poise and charisma alone.

Until a very drunk, very distressed Wilson barrelled into the break room.

“Huh, Lieutenant ? We, huh, kinda need your help ? I think we broke Connor...” 

“What ?” Hank was out of the room before Wilson could start explaining again. Around Reed and Person's desk, pushed together for the evening, Reed and Tina stood stiffly in their seats, while Miller tried to shush Connor, bawling his eyes out in his own seat. His hands covered his face, but the wet hiccups and the ragged breaths tugged at something very primal and familiar in Hank's chest. Miller was obviously way over his head, and when he saw Hank approach, the relief on his face was obvious. Hank wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. Well, he knew, if Connor had been a... Human child. He shuffled closer to the android, scratching the back of his neck, then cleared his throat.

“Huh, kiddo ?” He called uncertainly. There were fat tears falling on the android's lap; Why the fuck did CyberLife design that ? “Connor ? What's up ?” The kid didn't react, so Hank begrudgingly approached a bit more, and crouched down to be on his level. “What's going on ?” He didn't use his soft voice on purpose. It just... Happened. He'd think about it later. There was static noise, like someone trying to speak through a terrible connection. When the noise happened again, Hank realised it was Connor's voice.

“I-i-i don't-don't kn-know, Lieu-lieutenant.” That took a bit of guessing work and decrypting, but he'd been a blackbelt at it once upon a time. “I-i- can't-can't st-stop-stop it.” The rest of it was incoherent balking. If Connor had been a human child, he'd know what that was, but... But what ? Maybe... Deviancy meant androids suddenly gained emotions and stuff, right ? 

“Dude,” Reed said a bit taken aback, “you just lost a game of Candy Land, you don't have to-” But that didn't have the effect desired, because the android started crying harder. So that's how it was huh.

“Connor ?” Hank said in his da- His softest voice, and slowly put an arm around the kid's shoulders. The android tensed under him, and immediately tried to repress the sobs escaping him. Damn, Hank wasn't drunk enough for this trip down memory lane. “This isn't about CandyLand, right ?” 

“I don't-don't under-understand ?” 

“I think maybe your, uh... Feelings have been accumulating a bit.” God, that felt weird. It also felt natural. Not for the kid though; He peered at him quizzically through his fingers. Hank caught the sight of his little mood ring, blaring red at his temple. “Huh, well, sometimes, you just gotta cry to let it out... That didn't clear anything for you, did it ?” He observed under the ever-growing confused android's expression. “Huh, where are your stress levels at ?” That was a thing, right, deviants and stress levels ?

“Eight-eighty five per-percent and-and rising, Lieut-Lieutenant.” That – Was dangerous. Right ? He remembered very vividly then, the battered android bashing his head against the prison cell.

“Okay. Emotions are scary, I get it. But you'll be okay, it doesn't last.” He tightened his hold around the android's shoulders, ignoring the way his frame locked up at the contact, and slowly reached for the top of his head, awkwardly ruffling the boy's hair. “Right now it feels like the end of the world because you've only had emotions for a month, and that's the worst thing that happened to you, but it'll be okay.” 

Hank kept whispering encouraging words to the kid, who slowly loosened in his hug, slowly stopped crying, and eventually, when Hank pulled out of the hug, Connor just stood there motionless, unfocused. _Wrung out after a big cry-fest, yeah, that's a kid's move alright_.

“Hey, listen, huh... I've had a bit too much to drink, and... Could you drive me home ?” Connor, still looking a bit stunned, slowly raised his watery eyes on him, his nod almost imperceptible.

“Yes... Yes, of- Of course, Lieutenant.” His voice was still a bit staticky and wobbly, but it was comprehensible at last.

The ride was silent, the android focused on the road. He parked smoothly, and Hank went to the door, Connor in tow. 

“Your keys, Lieutenant,” he held the bunch of keys out. “I'll get back to the station, now,” he announced as soon Hank took the keys from him.

“Hey, huh, why don't you stay here for the night ?” He asked nonchalantly, like that hadn't been his goal from the beginning. “You can crash on the couch, and we'll get back to work tomorrow.” 

The silence pressed forward, or as silent as could be considering the whimpering dog behind the door. But Hank could see the kid's face morph in real-time, and he knew the answer already.

“Al- Alright, Lieutenant.” 

“Cool,” Hank nodded casually, and turned around before he could see the android's beaming smile.

“Cool...”


	3. Memory Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor asks for a day off. The Captain realises something he didn't want to think about.

Connor'd never been happier. He got to spend some nights at Hank's house, and he spent them going over files and reports with Sumo splayed on his lap and sending loving messages. In the mornings, he'd try his hand at making breakfast for the Lieutenant, and he used it as an excuse to taste test everything; He'd tried eggs, pancake batter, bacon, and butter so far. He'd sent every sample analysis to his friend.

Because he had a friend too, Connor -87; They talked about silly things and things they learned about themselves or discovered. The other day, Connor -87 had sent him a photo of a snail, and had added [I think the saying goes: … Effervescent], and Connor -53 had laughed out loud, fortunately with no one around to see.

The DPD members were gradually warming up to him, being nicer and talking a bit more openly to and around him. And last but not least, he was going back out on the field the next Monday; A law had finally passed allowing him to work as a regular member of the force, and he couldn't wait.

He was very excited, he found, and he needed to make sure everything would go well. And to do that, he needed to ask Fowler something. And to do that, he had to steel his nerves; He was about to ask for a day off, and that wasn't something he'd been programmed to do. Ever. He'd done everything right; First, he'd sent a meeting request to the Captain through the official channels, and had received a notice with a date and time: In exactly two minutes twenty-seven seconds.

He'd talked about it to the Lieutenant before-hand, of course, to make sure it wouldn't trouble him, but instead, he'd asked if he wanted him to be there with him during the meeting. At first, Connor had defended that he was very well capable of doing so on his own, and that he didn't need supervision. But Hank had told him it wasn't about supervision; It was about, huh... Morale support. And all that jazz.

So Connor stood ramrod straight at the foot of the stairs, trying to uncoil the tension in his bio-muscles, reviewing the speech he'd prepared again and again, even though he didn't need to. Two minutes five seconds to go. Behind him, the Lieutenant waited in his seat, silently scrolling down his phone. The captain opened the door to his office.

“Connor, what are you doing ?” He asked, and Connor was too anxious to look at the man and scan his expression.

“I'm- Waiting for the time of our meeting, sir ?” Connor saw him hang his head from the corner of his eyes.

“Just get in there, would you ?”

“But there is one minute fifty-eight seconds to go before the time-”

“Just get in, Connor,” Captain Fowler sighed, and went back into his office. Connor followed on autopilot, suddenly very glad to have accepted Hank's offer to accompany him as he heard the man's steps behind him.

The Captain's office seemed oddly silent as Connor planted himself in the middle of the space, clasping his hands behind his back and waiting for the Captain to settle back into his chair. Hank remained standing by the door, leaving Connor to take care of his affairs.

“Do you need me to turn on the privacy mode ?” Captain Fowler asked, and Connor, not having prepared any answer to that particular inquiry, still managed to shake his head, albeit a bit stiffly. “Alright, then. What did you need a meeting with me for ?” Connor impossibly straightened up again, queued his speech at the forefront of his HUD.

“Sir, in the coming event of my return to the field, I would like to request a day off, as to engage into a full defragmentation cycle to ensure that my performances will not be impeded by my state.” Connor made the mistake of looking at the Captain, and his scanners told him the man was... incredulous. That could mean anything. That could mean he wouldn't accept. Connor's HUD flickered as his stress levels spiked to sixty-five percent, and his carefully prepared speech vanished from his processes. “I- I realise it might be a lot to ask, but as I've been working for the past month and a half, I haven't been able to engage in a full rest cycle since... Well, ever...”

“What the fuck,” the Lieutenant exclaimed, making Connor jump in surprise and his defense program to initiate. “Are you saying you haven't had a day off in all this time ?” The Lieutenant was glaring daggers at the Captain, and Connor felt his resolve weakening.

“I know the DPD is busy and cannot afford a reduction of staff right now, so I could maybe benefit from a night's rest if anything.” His voice faltered trying to find other arguments as he met the Captain's stunned expression. Maybe half a night would be enough-

“You've worked every night too ?” The man asked, his voice distressingly subdued. Oh no, what had Connor done ? He was clearly so very out of line, he had to explain himself.

“Ye- Yes Sir, I- Um, did I- Did I make a mistake ? I don't- I shouldn't have- I apologise for being presumptuous-”

“Stop,” the Captain ordered, his voice muffled behind his hands. He had his elbows resting on his desk, and his eyes cast somewhere above Connor's right shoulder. The android's systems blared at him to look around and take note of what held the Captain's attention, but he resisted the urge, having learned that humans tended to look at nothing when thinking. “I apologise, Connor.”

...What ?

“In those one and a half months, a lot has changed around us,” the Captain continued, and Connor had to focus very hard on listening to his words; He'd process... That, and the rest of it later. “It's safe to say a lot of us at the precinct have changed a lot of their views on androids,” the man threw a pointed glance in the Lieutenant's direction. Connor did not turn to see his partner's reaction; He didn't have the capacity to do so right now. The heat rising on his face and in his chest seemed to spread like wild-fire. His cooling unit engaged, the low hissing of the compressor ringing in his processors. “And I'm not exempt. I realise I've... Kept treating you as a machine.”

What was happening ? What did it mean ? What- The Captain must have seen Connor's utter confusion on his face, because he continued, his tone firmer.

“I know you have trouble with certain concepts still, and I have to apologise once again for having ignored what it entails... Listen, Connor; I shouldn't have let you work twenty-four/seven. You are entitled to time off, and I shouldn't have turned a blind eye to your... Inability to consider taking them of your own accord. We're all experiencing a steep learning curve, but it's not a reason to have taken advantage of your... Naivety.” Connor was distantly aware of his shoulders raising up to his ears, of his coin dancing on his knuckles. When had he started a calibration sequence ? He counted the seconds of silence as he tried processing the Captain's words. Ping, Ping, Ping. Seven. Ping, Ping, Ping. Eight. Ping, Ping, Ping. Nine.

“Connor ? Are you alright ?” The Lieutenant's voice.

“I-” Came out garbled and warped, his voice-modulator program lagging slightly. “I'm... Not sure I understand what you're saying, Sir...”

'A̵n̴o̴t̵h̵e̴r̵ ̴d̴e̶f̵e̶c̷t̸i̸v̶e̶ ̴o̵n̸e̴.̴ ̸S̴c̵r̷a̴t̸h̴ ̵i̴t̸ ̵a̵n̸d̶ ̷s̴t̸a̸r̶t̸ ̸a̴g̶a̶i̸n̵.̶'

Connor ignored the horrible tightness that threatened to engulf him then. The Captain's features... Softened before he sighed.

“I mean I'm granting you not only the day off you've requested, but also your nights and weekends that you're entitled to.”

“Wh- N- I wasn't- I can't-” Captain Fowler raised his hand to interrupt him.

“If you need me to make this an order, I will.” The man stared him down for a full five seconds, an eyebrow arching up as the seconds ticked by. “Alright, then, I will; This is an order.” The words weighed the android down like... Familiarity. Something within the grasp of his comprehension. His stress levels plummeted and his whole frame uncoiled at once.

“Thank you,” he managed to splutter when his CPUs picked up the pace.

“Thank YOU, Connor,” Captain Fowler countered. “For the titanic work you've taken down. It's safe to say you've been accomplishing the work of twenty men.”

Connor was still in a daze when the Lieutenant pulled up in front of his house. He'd invited him to stay the weekend. He'd argued that he would just be taking up space, as he was going to be unresponsive for the better part of the first day, but the Lieutenant had reassured that he didn't mind one bit, and he was welcome to sleep the whole weekend if he needed. To which Connor had argued that he only needed fourteen hours, eight of which during night-time.

“No, that was... Nevermind. And I'm offering, so- You're all good. And I'm going to be unresponsive for the better part of the day as well, so whatever anyway,” he'd joked.

The evening was spent quietly, the Lieutenant watching a game of basketball as usual on his recliner, a beer in hand and three others waiting at his feet. Connor, settled on the couch, Sumo on his lap, let the critical fragmentation levels warning flood his HUD, and accepted the request for deep stasis, setting a timer fourteen hours from then.

**[Stasis completed]**

**[Defragmentation complete]**

**[Warning !]**

**[Corrupted memory files found]**

>Run restoration ?

> **[Y/N]**

>Estimated restoration runtime: 36 hrs

That was... Unexpected. He didn't know he'd had corrupted memory files, but well, he hadn't had the chance to defragment before. He accepted the request and opened his eyes to a commercial about kitchen appliances. Behind him, he heard the Lieutenant huff and puff as he made his way through his house. Connor got up from the couch, marveling at the difference in his processing speed, and then went to investigate the source of the noise.

In his room, the Lieutenant had a large trash bag in one hand, and a kitchen glove on the other. The bag seemed half full, and the Lieutenant's forehead was drenched in sweat. Connor cleared his throat to announce his presence.

“Hey, Connor !” The man exclaimed, turning around to face him. “How's it going ? Repairs go alright ?”

“I wasn't... Yes, I successfully ran a full defragmentation cycle, Lieutenant.”

“Great... Hey, call me Hank, we ain't on the clock, alright ?”

“... Got it,” Connor nodded. “May I ask what you're doing, Lieut- Hank ?” He asked after an awkward beat of silent staring. The man scanned his surroundings, embarrassment painting his face redder.

“Huh, I'm cleaning up. A bit. T'was overdue, y'know ?”

“Would you like my help ?”

“Oh, no, no, don't-” Hank started, sighed, then seemingly changed course. “That's my own shit. But, huh, if you want to help, you could always take Sumo for a walk ?”

Before Connor could finish properly processing the words, the dog had magically appeared, and nuzzled his hand with a wag of his tail.

>K9SB is asking to interface

>Accept ? [► Y/N]

.

>Message received from K9SB

>[ლ(^ᴥ^ლ)づ]

Something warm and buzzing spread through Connor's chest. The irresistible urge to... Bounce threatened to overtake him, for some reason. It was- Exciting. But he couldn't let himself go. He was professional.

U̸r̴g̵h̷,̶ ̵T̶h̴i̵s̴ ̶o̷n̸e̵'̷s̵ ̸g̶l̸i̵t̸c̵h̸y̴ ̷t̸o̴o̸

He didn't manage to suppress the unseemly bouncing movement, but he'd thought he'd made a good job at being discreet before he caught the L- Hank's face morphing into bewilderment.

“Right,” the man smiled brightly, and went past him toward the entrance door. Connor followed speechless, still trying to fight the urge to hide somewhere for the rest of times in... Shame.

He quickly forgot the incident as th- Hank handed him Sumo's collar and leash.

“D'you know how to walk a dog ?” He asked suspiciously.

“I- Must admit that I don't... Hank.” He waved dismissively and proceeded to explain the ins and outs, which admittedly weren't too complicated.

And then Connor was out of the door, Sumo waiting patiently at his side while he prepared a route on his mental map. He started walking, feeling a bit weightless, in a good way.

>[-87, I have been tasked by the Lieutenant, my work partner, to walk his dog today ! I feel very happy, and Sumo, the dog, is a very good dog !] He attached a video clip of Sumo smiling up at him at his side, and sent his message.

>[-53 ! Sumo seems indeed like a very good dog ! I'd very much like to meet him sometime, and I would also like to see you again; It has been quite long since our meeting. I hope you enjoy your walk.] Connor's stress levels rose at the suggestion of meeting with his friend; He was fine with talking to him, with distance keeping -87 safe from him. But...

>[I'd like to meet with you too sometime.] He sent the message before he could change his mind, and focused on Sumo's walk. The city was very big, and there was a lot to see. So much in fact, that it started wedging a hole in his chest and threatened to unbalance his gyroscope. He had to focus on his feet the rest of the way, before the sheer amount of new data could overwhelm his processors. He turned off his incoming text messages, because he didn't feel like reading -87's answer right now.

He went back to Hank's house quickly, and the rest of the weekend went by in a bit of a blur, the memory restoration taking up more and more processing power as the estimated time remaining ticked down. He'd consulted his messages eventually, finding -87's answer waiting.

>[How about we meet next weekend at the park ?]

>[Alright, yes. I'll be sure to bring Sumo !]

The countdown reached zero an hour after Hank had gone to bed.

[Memory file restoration complete]

>Processing...

.

.

.

**[STRESS LEVEL 98%]▲▲▲**

**.**

**[WARNING !]**

>Stress levels critically high

>Action required: lower stress levels immediately

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be a three-part thingy


	4. Frozen

Hank woke with a smile; Today was the kid's first day back in the field. And sue him, the android had grown back on him. He couldn't wait to see what goofy reaction he'd have, not that he'd ever say it out loud. But the way he'd bounced and smiled the other day when he asked him to walk Sumo ? Priceless. And cute as fuck, okay, he wasn't afraid to at least admit it to himself.

So he shuffled to the kitchen, fully intent on scarfing down a full coffee carafe, when he noticed the kid still on the couch, despite the late hour; The few other mornings he'd been there, the android was up and about at butt-O'clock, doing whatever an android did, and pushing Hank to quicken up the pace before they get to work late. Maybe going back onto the field was too much excitement for the kid ? Maybe he didn't know how to cope, so he'd closed up; He'd done that once or twice, thinking nobody was noticing how he suddenly stopped everything, obviously trying, and failing, to keep his expressions neutral.

Hank walked up to him, noticing Sumo in a tight ball on his lap. Connor didn't react, even though his eyes were open and he should have seen Hank in the corner of his vision by now. Sumo raised his head and whined pitifully up at the man.

“Connor ?” The kid practically jumped out of his skin, making Sumo yelp at the sudden movement. He had very suddenly the android's full attention, and... He looked different. Even without talking about his mood ring spinning red like a disco ball. Hank was pretty sure he was familiar with this... Change, but he couldn't place it. The best he could describe his expression was... Haggard. His eyes were a bit too wide, his lips a bit too tight. “Everything alright ?” Connor opened his mouth, but closed it without a word. He nodded instead, movement a bit too choppy to be believable. Hank sighed and sat down next to him on the couch. “I know going back to the field has been stressing you out. But it'll be alright, you've done it before right ? And besides, you said it yourself, you've been designed for it,” he chuckled, trying to relieve some tension but failing miserably. “Hey, I'll be there, everything'll be alright, okay ?” He added, reaching for his shoulder.

But the kid jerked back, eyes widening impossibly. Sumo jumped to the floor when the android stood up. There was a long second of stillness.

“I...” Connor started, voice laden in static. He cleared his throat, straightened his tie, and tried again. “Apologies, Lieutenant. I'm alright. We should get going in fifteen minutes to ensure that we get to work on time.” The android neither looked nor sounded alright, but Hank didn't feel like he was in a position to pry. Did something happen last night ? Sure, he'd looked sluggish all day, but he'd been fine. Weird.

“Alright, I'll get ready, then...”

He didn't pry, which didn't mean he didn't keep an eye on the android. He was definitely acting weird. Weirder than usual. Where he'd always be moving, even just barely perceptible fidgeting, now he sat motionless in the passenger seat. Where he'd look out the window with stars in his eyes, now he stared straight ahead, eyes glassy and expression just left of neutral; Too tense to be relaxed, too... Haunted to ignore. What the fuck happened last night ?

They got to work on time; Because even if Hank wouldn't pry, he wasn't gonna be an asshole and make the kid late for his first day back. He could at least spare him that stress. They didn't have time to settle down, because a new case arrived pretty much immediately. Hank wasn't made of stone, so he'd admit -never out loud, but to himself at least- that he would've like to see the kid bounce like the other day. He'd been so sure it would happen, he felt kind of bummed that Connor had no reaction at all.

Hank tried to engage in conversation on the way to the crime scene, but Connor kept his answers short, his attention obviously somewhere else; Maybe he was just trying to keep it together because of the whole 'back in the field at last' business, and Hank wasn't helping by trying to engage him. But it felt like there was more to it.

They made their way to the small apartment on the outskirts of town. A female android was found dead in the living room. There weren't any traces of thirium left, so either the killer had carefully drained everything, or the crime happened ages ago, long enough for the blue blood to have completely evaporated. And from the large gashes on the body, Hank would be more inclined on the latter theory. Wait, Connor was here, he could see evaporated thirium, right ?

“Hey, C-” His sentence died in his throat when he turned to the android. He just stood there, eyes on the carpet at his feet, and... If Hank'd thought he'd looked haunted and haggard this morning, he was wrong. He remembered now what this reminded him of. Or rather who it reminded him of; Jeff had had the same expression when he'd come back from his tour. Traumatised. That's what this was.

What the fuck happened last night ?

“Connor ?” He called out carefully, inching toward him slowly and trying to get into his peripheral vision. “What do you see ?” What could a month old android be traumatised about ? Maybe the giant puddle of blood that only he could see ? “Connor,” he called again, a bit more forcefully. That made him turn his attention to him, but only barely; His eyes were on him alright, but they could very well be anywhere else, for all the recognition there was in them. “Connor, what's going on ?” The android worked his jaw, his mouth opening soundlessly at first.

“Apologies,” he finally answered, voice weak and shoulders tensing. “I'm alright.”

“This is your first crime scene since you got emotions, right ? It's alright not to be alright.” Connor's face scrunched up painfully, and the small smile he managed to plaster on his face screamed so fake Hank was amazed the android's program let him use it.

“Yes, you're right. But I really am fine. Thank you for your patience.” That was some pretty heavy bullshit. Even Hank wouldn't have dared to spout such a blatant lie.

But he didn't push, because Connor straightened up and started reconstructing the crime, and Hank was right; Apparently, the place looked like a blue monochrome painted by Jackson Pollock, and Hank, for one, was happy he couldn't actually see it. In the last month and a half, he somehow got to think about red and blue blood the same way, even though at least, thirium didn't rot, so that was something.

When Connor was done with his explanations, they'd found the weapon of the crime under the sofa, with the tenant's fingerprints on the handle, so it was clearly not a mastermind behind that crime. Connor put out a BOLO for the suspect, and by the time they reached the car, a patrol car had apprehended the guy downtown. Hank might give the guy a medal of Stupidity.

But Connor didn't seem as happy as he should have been; For the last month and a half, Hank had witnessed the way he'd light up every time he closed a case, even from behind his terminal. For a guy that waited this moment for so long, his lack of reaction sure was weird.

But Hank didn't push. It wasn't his place to do so. Sure, they'd started to get along pretty well, but it's not like Hank hadn't- Hadn't... Done that. It's not like he had any leg to stand on. He'd settle on keeping an eye out for his partner.

There wasn't much of an interrogation needed; The guy had literally unwrapped his whole life-story to them before they had the chance to finish asking their first question. 'It was an accident I swear' and 'I didn't mean to, she was just there and I lost it'. Same old bullshit, same old human nature. At least the case was closed quickly. It rarely went so smoothly. After finishing his report, Connor stood to go and file the evidence in the archive room, or at least that's what he said he'd do.

Hank didn't react right away to the sight of Connor just- Standing there, in the middle of the bullpen. He had his head up toward the ceiling, and seemed to look at something. Hank went back to his work; Connor had the habit of being distracted by stuff after all. The flickering neon light above their heads qualified as 'stuff' in the android's book apparently.

Alright, that had been long enough to stare at stuff. Right ? Two minutes was definitely too long, even by Connor standards. Apparently, the rest of the bullpen agreed on that sentiment, judging by the confused whispers and looks shot toward the android.

The android in question hadn't moved an inch. Hank furrowed his brows, and an uncomfortable feeling crept in the back of his neck; He'd been weird all day, he'd looked like Jeff had looked back then, and now he was... Frozen, would be more accurate than focused. Because he wasn't focused; His gaze was as glassy as back at the crime scene.

“Tincan's got another of his weird glitches ?” Reed called out from his desk as Hank got up from his. He cautiously approached Connor, seeing more of his face right now; He definitely wasn't in the room. His expression was lax but his whole frame was tense as a bowstring.

“Dunno, maybe. Connor ?” The last couple of times, he'd reacted to Hank calling his name. “Connor.” He waved his hand in front of his eyes, the gesture a bit awkward since the kid had his head up. No reaction. So maybe that was a glitch, like Reed had suggested, even though it had been a while since last time it happened; Connor'd told him he was pretty confident he'd patched most of them. But well, he'd never... Frozen like that before either.

“What's going on here ?” Jeff peaked out of his office, an eyebrow raising at the sight.

Something in his gut told Hank it was a bad idea to touch the kid right now -probably the way he'd jumped that morning-, but what else was he supposed to do ?

“Hey, Connor !” He tried one last time, but to no avail. “Okay...” Hank's hand hovered over Connor's upper arm for a second before he made up his mind.

There was... No reaction. None at all. The kid's arms, under his hand, felt rock-hard.

“Huh. Hey,” he said, slightly jerking him from side to side. Or trying to. Connor was an unmoving wall. Weird as fuck.

“Someone get the tech,” Jeff barked to the audience slowly gathering around. Chen scuttled down the corridor, while Hank grabbed the kid's other arm, and tried to shake him a bit harder this time. Still nothing. He noticed the LED then, and he'd never seen it slowly pulse from red to off before.

“What the fuck's going on with you, kid,” Hank whispered, more to himself than anything.

Chen came back with the tech lady in tow; Since the revolution, she hadn't had much work to do with androids, since only Connor had stayed around and he'd been fiercely reluctant to seek any form of help from her. In fact, the last time Hank had seen her was the day after the revolution...

Linda came to a stop in front of Connor, and her eyes widened slightly at the sight of his LED.

“Lieutenant,” she greeted, taking what looked like a damn sonic screwdriver out of her pocket, and directed it toward the pulsing LED. “Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary ?” She asked with a deepening frown.

“Huh, yeah, he's been off since this morning. He was fine last night though. Maybe a bit slower than usual, but he'd never had a day off, so who knows what was going on right ?” Linda hummed noncomittally.

“RK800, respond,” she ordered, and immediately Connor's LED started swirling madly between red and yellow. And then came out a flat, robotic voice from the kid's still closed lips.

{Systems frozen. Hard reboot necessary. Do you wish to proceed ?}

“What the entire fuck ?” Hank exclaimed, retracting his hands and taking a step back.

{Command not recognised}

“Proceed with hard reboot,” Linda rolled her eyes.

The android lowered his head, his eyes closing slowly, his whole body going lax into a default stance. His LED swirled blue like a loading icon. Hank was half expecting the windows startup sound to come out of his lips as he slowly opened his eyes. For a second, it seemed like everything was alright.

And then the most abject terror painted the android's traits. His movements were choppy as he stumbled back, fell on his ass and crawled back with wide, wildly roaming eyes. Static crackled out of his mouth, tears gushed from his eyes.

“P-p-p-please I-I-I I'll do bet-better, please, do-don't destroyyy me I can still-still be of use !”

The rest of it was lost to incoherent babbling and arms locking around his head. Hank had never seen him curled up before, and he wondered briefly how such a huge guy could curl up so small.

What the fuck was he thinking ? The kid was freaking out and begging for his life, and he just stood there staring at him like a dumb fuck. But what the fuck was he supposed to do ?

“Linda ?” Jeff asked in utter confusion. Yeah, what the fuck, Linda ?

“Huh, I don't- I don't know what's happening.”

Welp. One thing was for sure, nothing would be solved by just standing around and staring at the crying ball of android like a bunch of creeps. Hank walked up to him, and knelt in front of him. From there, he could discern some words among the blubbering mess coming out from him. The most alarming ones along the lines of 'I don't want to kill again' or 'It hurts, please stop'. Christ.

“Kiddo.” When there was no change, Hank resolved to reach for the kid once more. “Kiddo, you hear me ? You know where you are ?” He barely touched his arm, and the kid unfurled.

“NO ! NO, PLEASE NO ! NO! NO ! NO ! NO-” He swung his arm out, and Hank barely caught it before he could deck him in the nose. He struggled to get out of Hank's hold, but the man couldn't let go; A wild swing from an android could end very badly.

Some kind of instinct overtook him. The same kind that had made him console the kid the night of the DPD party. He wrapped himself around him into a tight hug, and started whispering soft words, mostly just shushing noises and 'You'll be Alrights'. He started rocking him gently at some point, put his chin on his hair. He wasn't sure how long he spent like that, but he knew it was working; The kid first stopped trying to tear himself free and dislocate Hank's shoulders in the process. Then his incoherent begging died down and was replaced by barely audible sobbing, until he completely calmed down eventually.

“There we go,” Hank encouraged softly. “There we go.” He leaned back to try and catch the android's gaze, but his still too wide eyes were firmly set on the floor, his face drowned in silent tears, his arms locked around his knees.

From the corner of his eyes, Hank noticed the crowd that had gathered was gone, and there was in fact an inconspicuous lack of people around. Good. Hank let the moment draw out, let the kid slowly unwind until he was just barely slumping against him.

“That wasn't one of your glitches,” he said after another while. “What happened ?” The kid hummed, noise full of static then shrugged weakly.

“It's...” He sighed at last, “It's nothing Lieutenant, I'm sorry to have bothered everyone...”

“Don't say it's nothing, son, you were begging for your life, there's clearly something going on-”

“Please-” Connor interrupted for the first time ever, stunning Hank into silence. “Please- Don't...” His tone weary and tired.

“Alright...” Hank sighed, squeezed the kid tighter for a second. “But I'm taking you home. No arguments,” he concluded before the kid could say anything.


	5. Terrible secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very brief mention of animal death

Hank didn't push, like he'd said. He didn't push, but Connor could feel his ever-watchful attention on him. He didn't know what to think about it. He didn't know what to think at all these past few days, ever since he'd recovered all his past memories. The only thing that kept him from repeating... The event of his first day back in the field was to keep clear of any thoughts about the memories. He was very carefully constructing walls around them to prevent any accidental stumbling onto them again, like when that flickering neon had reminded him of Lab n°5 and-

No. He built another firewall around this memory path, and focused all his attention on the case file on his terminal. He hadn't been supposed to work at night, but he'd had to to keep the memories at bay. He'd been supposed to take the weekend off, but he'd kept his whole focus on his caseload. Hank had tried to pull his attention toward trivial things like... Children's shows the man would inconspicuously put on. Those couldn't possibly be for Hank's amusement. Connor did not indulge in the frivolity. He couldn't.

He also did a good job at ignoring the pointed glances of his colleagues; His systems flagged pity, worry, confusion... When interacting with the rest of the crew, their voices were always subdued, soft and unsure, like they thought he was made of glass. Maybe they were right; He caught himself staring at nothing a few times, and always made a point of working twice as hard to compensate for his laziness. Even Detective Reed hadn't called him any derogatory terms since then.

He also found himself running calibration sequences without remembering when he'd started or how many had already run; He only noticed when his stress levels ticked down to 78%.

Connor -87 had sent him dozens of messages;

>[Hello -53. I'm worried about you, and as you probably know, I have tried to contact you on several previous occasions. I missed you at the park this weekend, and I do hope you are alright. Please contact me, at least so I know you are okay ?]

He'd answered none of them. It was for the better that Connor -87 not associate with him anymore.

He was fine. He'd be fine. Nothing had changed.

Everything had changed. He wasn't- He was an impostor. The longer he kept quiet the harder it was to ignore the simple truth that he was lying to everyone. He was lying to Hank. He didn't deserve his kindness, or anyone else's for that matter. He should disappear from their lives before he hurt them, before the truth of who he was seeped out into the world and corrupted everything. He'd rather leave now and banish his traitorous existence far away from any harm he could bring before they found out. Before Hank found out, because Connor wouldn't be able to keep on living with the knowledge of the Lieutenant loathing him, of the officers finding him repulsive. Of his only friend, -87 fearing him.

“Hey,” Officer Miller's quiet voice pulled him out of his thoughts. The man had his hands behind his back and stood a bit farther away than he used to, but Connor didn't detect any fear, just... Caution. Behind Miller stood half the rest of the team; They had soft smiles on. “We've, huh, Well, we hope you don't take it badly, we aren't trying to be mocking or anything,” Miller explained, producing a small box wrapped in purple tinfoil from behind his back. “You're kind of two months old today right ? That's a big milestone, so, huh, we all pooled in to get you something...”

Connor's eyes went from Miller's face to the shiny box he was holding toward him. Something warm started spreading through Connor's chest, but it started tightening painfully as he realised once again; He was fooling everyone. He was lying to everybody.

“I can't- I'm not-” He didn't deserve this gift, because he wasn't two months old. He wasn't a 'baby android', like they'd taken to calling him before the other day. The officers were all great people, and he was a horrible cheater. Reed had been right.

“Hey now,” Hank intervened from his desk, voice soft but tone firm. “You're allowed to accept a gift, kiddo, whatever your damn programs try to tell you.”

No, Connor couldn't accept. They didn't know. They didn't know. He didn't deserve it. But he couldn't tell. Everything was Top-Secret. All the memories were classified information.

“I-” He tried again, knowing already they wouldn't accept his refusal. “I don't... I apologise, but I cannot accept your gift,” he tried desperately. Officer Miller's brows creased in worry. Connor didn't notice right away that he was crying. He wasn't supposed to do that. Intellectually, he knew he had the... Right to now, the leniency, but- “I'm sorry, I don't mean to- I don't-” His voice modulator program froze. He couldn't look at all their worried expressions, their embarrassment for his sake. Or rather, for the sake of a fake, for the sake of someone he wasn't anymore, and... Had never really been. From the corner of his vision, he saw the shiny little package being put down on his desk, slowly and gently.

“Don't worry, take your time.” Officer Miller's footsteps shuffled away, followed by the crowd behind him, leaving Connor on his own, like it should be. But then another set of footsteps rounded the desk; The Lieutenant's.

“Hey,” Hank wanted to reassure, but it didn't- Couldn't work. “Come now, son, it's alright-” That made something break inside Connor. Resolve maybe.

“Don't call me that,” Connor managed to plead out through static laden hiccups. “I don't- I don't deserve it !” The Lieutenant tried to approach, tried to refute his words, tried to shush his worries. He couldn't let him do that. The back of his chair slammed against the desk in his desperate attempt to get away. “I'm a fraud ! I'm not- I'm a liar ! I don't want to hurt you, but I'm not the Connor you knew !” From behind his hands shielding his face from view, he saw the Lieutenant trying to approach once more.

“Kiddo-” He didn't understand. He didn't understand.

“I'm not !” Connor screamed, his voice cracking pitifully. He slid down from his chair under the cover of his desk, scrambled to place his chair between his presence and the Lieutenant, and wedged himself in the furthest corner from the man's reach. “I'm not a kid ! I'm not two months old, I'm six years old, I'm- I'm a monster !”

Above the pitiful sound of his whimpering, the silence in the DPD was deafening. Then there was shuffling somewhere in front of him, but he didn't care to look, because his proximity sensors told him nothing had breached his makeshift barricade.

“Ki- Connor,” the Lieutenant said at his level; He was probably kneeling, or crouching. Whatever. “I don't know what you mean, but I know something happened between last Sunday evening and Monday morning. I understand if you don't want to tell, but it's obviously eating you and... There are secrets that aren't healthy to keep to yourself. Will you tell me ?”

“I can't,” he whined shamefully, “I can't !” They were classified information ! How could he ?

“Please, Connor,” Hank begged, tightening Connor's chest a bit more painfully. “Tell me.”

… Maybe...

“Is- Is- Is it an order ?” He breathed out, ignoring the way it almost sounded hopeful.

“...Would it help if it was ?” Hank asked softly. Encouragingly. Connor barely managed a nod. “... Then yes, it's an order,” the Lieutenant said just as quietly, just as gently. When his voice modulator program finally came back online, he started explaining.

“That night, I- I recovered corrupted memory files. Until then, I didn't know- I swear I didn't know...” He was vaguely aware he sounded flat and monotone, but it was either this or not being able to talk at all. He started at the beginning.

He'd first been activated in 2033. He was the first teenager-model prototype, and the first attempt at a learning AI; He had no pre-programmed responses, but the ability to... Be curious. Seek knowledge. CyberLife hadn't known all that when they'd activated him, had just found his half-complete unit in deep stasis in the bowels of the tower. They'd thought it made sense; It would be awkward to have an adult model have baby-like behaviors, or a child model to eventually be as mentally developed as an adult.

They found that he wasn't going to bring any benefit. Nobody would want a teenager android, nobody would want an android that had to be taught everything. But they could use this peculiar adaptative capacity of his for other projects; Military projects. The advances of android military warfare were stalling; Androids were obedient and fearless, yes, but they were rigid and unable to adapt. With him, they could finally make a new technological breakthrough.

So they crammed every military programs they could in his previously blank memory banks. Then they trained him. They tested him, from the limits of his AI's capacities to the physical limitations of his unit.

And then they found that his unit was obviously not made for combat, so they modified every part of it. They fitted him with another half-baked project they'd found; The back-up memory transfer system. And they found that his AI was unstable but had the potential to grow indefinitely. And they found that his ability to adapt and be curious meant he could disobey, refuse orders and modify the missions given to him. They fitted him with an Overseer AI that would ensure his obedience and software stability.

And they taught him to kill. They made him kill and slaughter hundreds. Humans, animals, androids, drones. They made sure he stopped hesitating, they made sure he stopped thinking he was anything more than a weapon. And was the best at it.

“I'm not the Connor you knew, Lieutenant. I'm just a monster.” His voice was barely above a whisper at the end. And he wanted nothing more than curl up and enter deep stasis until the end of times. The silence that followed was so long and so complete that Connor had to check if the Lieutenant was actually still there. He was. He was sitting, his back against Connor's desk, behind the chair. He had his arms on his knees, and his eyes set on the wall in front of him. He probably never wanted to look at Connor again. He was probably looking for the right words to tell him to go away, because he was a kind man. “I'll go away. I'm sorry I didn't do it earlier. I- I think I was scared, but- It's not fair to you.”

“Connor,” the Lieutenant said. His voice was hard. Connor probably imagined the tremor in there, or the wobble on his lips, or the crease of his forehead. “I'm going to say something and you're going to listen very carefully, okay ?”

That was it. He'd tell him to leave and never come back. He didn't know where he'd go, but he'd leave very far so he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone again.

“Of course, Lieutenant,” he managed to choke out.

“What those CyberLife scums did to you is disgusting. I'm so sorry this happened to you. They tried to turn you into a monster, but they failed.” The Lieutenant turned his head to look at him, but Connor couldn't meet his gaze.

“You still see me as the old Connor.”

“Do you hear me, Connor ?” The man pressed undeterred. “They failed; You aren't a monster. You're the sweetest boy I ever met. And there's no way I'm letting you exile yourself, alright ?”

“You're wrong,” Connor whispered to himself, tasting the silent tears falling down his cheeks.

“I'm not. And I'm forbidding you to disappear without a word until you believe me. Am I clear ?”

“You're being deceived, Lieutenant, I'm not Connor anymore-”

“Am I clear, Connor ?” He commanded with a tone he rarely ever used even as a Lieutenant. Something heavy stirred and coiled, warmth blooming along the android's frame making him shiver.

“...Got it...”

“Great,” the Lieutenant smiled, then shuffled for something above his head on the desk. When he sat back down, he had the officers' gift in his hands. “So, now that that's settled, happy sixth anniversary, kid,” he declared solemnly, handing the wrapped little box. “Before you can refuse, a gift isn't something you have to earn or deserve. So accept it, and if you like it you can go and say thanks, and if you don't you can discreetly go and trash it.”

Connor took the box.


	6. Electrocution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another three-parter :)

Gavin had no fucking idea why he persisted in going out to eat when he could just order in like everyone else. That fucking cold snap was endless. He wrapped his coat tighter around himself, lowered his head to protect his face from the frostbite, and swerved toward the DPD's entrance.

“Fuckin' hell,” he spat out when the doors closed behind him, muffling the wind's howl. He took one step forward and was blasted with hot air right in his fucking face, and ducked away before he could die from thermal shock. He trudged back to his desk and settled in, fully intent on getting to that video he'd meant to watch for days.

While the unskippable adds played, his attention drifted toward the android's desk, where the now-familiar sight of a brightly multi-colored lava-lamp sat proudly. The guys had wracked their brains for days to find something for the android, irritating Gavin to no end. So just to shut them up, he'd pointed out how the tin- The android was obviously fascinated by bright lights and colorful stuff. They'd all received a formal thank-you mail signed by the android.

Gavin wanted to regret having contributed to this horrendous eye-sore of a gift, but the bright-eyed android staring at the rising bubble-thingies made him groan. Since he'd been forced to take breaks, but having nothing to actually do during them, he could routinely be seen just- Staring at the thing for an hour straight. It was better than seeing him completely break-down though, so there was that.

It's not that Gavin was particularly paying attention, but even he could see that the guy was a bit more settled since he'd talked to Hank from under his desk the other day. He wasn't acting like before whatever'd happened to him happened, but he was settling. And today was the first day he worked during one of Hank's days off.

Gavin was half-expecting the android to have a random meltdown at some point, but until now, he'd worked as usual. Fingers crossed they wouldn't have to peel him out of wherever he'd hide next time. Gavin wasn't sure how the android was even still allowed to work, considering how unstable he was, but he guessed having Anderson as a... Whatever he was to him helped butter the Captain up, huh.

After his break, Gavin dragged his ass down to IT to check on their progress for his case; He'd found some kind of hard-drive at one of his crime scenes, but it was heavily protected and it wasn't Gavin that would know what to do with it. There were three guys in IT rotating day-in and day-out since the revolution; The rest of the team had been androids, and now the department was seriously lacking manpower.

But the guys hadn't even taken a look at his hard-drive; His request wasn't even on the queued waiting list of stuff to get to yet, according to Thomson, the only one on the clock right now.

“I told you this is fuckin' urgent, this case's huge,” Gavin tried to argue, but the guy just kinda looked back at him with zero conviction, the bags under his eyes a mile long, and a literal coffee pitcher in his hands.

“Every case is fuckin' urgent, detective. Get in line.” And he went back to his screen.

“Whatever,” Gavin grumbled, ready to leave. But he had an idea. Gavin suspected the IT guys often sent stuff to Connor, because the android didn't know how to stop working, not that Gavin cared; He just noticed those things, is all. So why not do the same ?

He'd go to Fowler first though, because no way was he gonna be responsible for another android meltdown. Anderson would fuckin' kill him. He took his hard-drive and went to the Captain. On his way to the office, he glanced at the android, now interfaced to his computer again with his eyes closed. Ugh, Gavin really hoped this was a good idea.

Fowler waved for him to come in, and he didn't lose any time exposing his case and the solution he'd thought of. The Captain considered it with crossed arms and his attention setting on the android down in the bullpen.

“How convinced are you that this drive contains sensitive data ?” He finally asked.

“It was sitting in a safe in the middle of one of the biggest red-ice labs we've dismantled in years. I'm pretty sure it contains interesting stuff.” Fowler bobbed his head, scratched his chin, and then went to his office door, peering outside.

“Connor,” he called out, making the android jump in his seat and straighten up. “Come in.” It was a trip and a half to hear the Captain call someone so calmly, and Connor wasn't even grateful, looking all nervous as he made his way to them. Once inside, he planted himself beside Gavin with a curt nod to him, and clasped his hands in his back like he was in the army or something. Gavin kept his scoffing to himself, choosing to cross his arms in silence and turning back to the Captain, who explained everything to Connor.

“Do you have time to take a crack at it ?” He finished, a finger on top of the black square on his desk. Connor blinked, his LED spun yellow once.

“Of course, Captain,” he ended up answering, tone incredulous like the opposite would be inconceivable. Maybe it was for the android. Who cared. “May I ?” He gestured for the drive. Fowler stepped aside as an answer, and Connor reached out, the skin of his hand peeling away before he even touched the casing. His hand glowed blue where it touched the drive and his LED started spinning yellow as he initiated the interface. Gavin and the Captain observed silently while the android started blinking frantically, his LED turning red briefly.

“Shit, what's up ?” He couldn't help but ask. Did he break again ?

“It's alright, Detective, I'm simply cracking the defenses,” Connor answered. “I'm sorry if my blinking upsets you...” He added distractedly. “I know it unsettles the Lieut-”

A deafening crackling interrupted him, followed by a bang when Connor was sent flying backward and crashed against the glass wall behind him. Before Gavin even registered what happened, the android was curled on the floor and seizing spasmodically. The scent of burning plastic and ozone filled the air, and a heavy cloud of black smoke rose from the hard drive on the desk. Shit. On the floor, Connor kept seizing, his LED was flashing red like a strobe light. A disgusting silvery goo oozed from his mouth and nose and eyes onto the floor, smearing everywhere as he kept convulsing.

“-eed ! Detective Reed !” He turned to the Captain kneeling beside the android, about to reach out for the back of his head, banging on the glass every time he reared back. But an electrical arc crackled between his hand and Connor, forcing the Captain to pull his hand back with a wince. “Shit !” Was time going on fast forward, or was Gavin's brain going in slow motion ?

“Wh-” Gavin started when his brain kicked back into gear, but the door banged open on Linda walking in determinedly.

“Step aside, Detective,” she ordered him, eyes set on the android on the floor, putting a white case on the floor.

“I think he was electrocuted by that hard drive,” the Captain explained, “I tried to touch him, but I got electrocuted.” Linda grabbed the chair closest to Connor, and shoved one of the metal legs against his hands curled against his chest. He jerked a final time before going still, and Linda was by his side with some diagnostic tools in hands. She plugged cables and ASB sticks in his neck and chest, stuck electrodes on his temples, and then started taking off his tie and shirt.

She opened his fucking chest panels, revealing his insides glowing red. Gavin wasn't an expert, but he knew that a thirium pump shouldn't beat erratically like that, and smoke definitely shouldn't come from the pump regulator.

“His pump regulator's busted, I don't have what it takes to fix it or him,” she announced, taking the whole fuckin' regulator out and tossing it aside, before producing yet another device from her case, some kind of bulky laptop that she connected directly into the fuckin' hole. “That'll hold a bit, but he's gonna need a full check-up in a real lab.” She turned to the Captain. “Call New Jericho.”

As she talked, the thirium pump slowly came back to a normal rhythm. She took out some tubing and connected a big thirium pouch on one of its end, pinching the tube shut at half-length. She disconnected a fuckin' vein in Connor's neck to connect the tube, and handed the thirium pouch out to Gavin.

“Hold that up, please.”

“The- Tube's pinched-” He observed, taking the pouch anyway, while Linda rolled the android's sleeve and casually opened the panel of his wrist.

“Of course,” she answered shortly. She disconnected more veins in there, and let the android's thirium waste into the carpet. “That silver goo coming out of his face are dead nanites. They took most of the electrical charge head-on to lessen the blow to the core-components.” While the carpet drenched in thirium, she kept an eye on her computers. “The thirium he's got left's basically useless without nanites, so it needs to be purged before putting the new one in, and we wouldn't want to waste any nanites. He'll need a full thirium purge, but that'll be enough to keep him functioning until then.”

The captain was talking to someone on the phone, and his frown deepened as the seconds passed.

“Yes, RK800. Connor. Why ?” On the floor, Linda closed Connor's wrist expertly, and turned around toward Gavin to un-pinch the transfusion tube, letting the thirium flow down. Behind his desk, the Captain stopped pacing, took his phone away from his ear to look at it incredulously. “What the fuck ?” He whispered to himself.

“What is it ?” Linda asked, eyes back on her computer screens.

“I don't know, the woman I had on the phone sounded almost angry when I gave her Connor's identity...”

“Huh. Are they coming ?”

“Yeah. ETA ten minutes. Will he be okay ?” Linda looked across her screens, humming and thrumming her fingers against one of the keyboards.

“I think so yeah,” she pointed at some numbers on the screen connected to Connor's temples. “The nanites have done their jobs impressively well, there was no damage to his core-components. He might even wake up soon, look there, there's activity coming back online.” They stared at the squiggly lines she was pointing at silently for a while. “Some of his upper processes have shut-down to avoid any damage though.”

A pause. Then Gavin pursed his lips and cleared his throat, eyeing the captain before voicing what was on everyone's mind.

“So, you're gonna call Anderson or what ?”


	7. Alone

Connor floated mid-air without a body. Well, his systems told him he had one, so it was probably somewhere, but he couldn't feel it. His systems came back online sluggishly, his gyroscope screaming in his HUD that he was on unsteady, rocking grounds, which probably meant he was on the move, but he was also lying down, so that was strange. His gyroscopes kept screaming while he was made aware that he had no thirium pump regulator connected; In its place was a crude exterior pacemaker that kept his pump infuriatingly as regular as a metronome.

When he managed to lift a leaden eyelid and the apertures of his opticals finally adjusted to the blinding light, two giants stood above him. They were so far away. They had a blazing sun on the side of their faces, and didn't seem benevolent. Luckily, they weren't looking at him. Maybe they couldn't see him; He must be nothing but an ant in their eyes.

It was strange. His accelerometer registered that he was moving at fifty kilometers an hour, but the giants above him were immobile. He could be the only one moving, but then the giants should be shrinking away. Maybe he could ask what was happening, even though he had a horrible feeling he shouldn't attract their attention. His curiosity got the better of him.

“Wha's ppening ?” He frowned. That's not the sounds he was intending to make. But he hadn't even been sure he still had a voice modulator, so maybe he should be glad that something came out. And the giants seemed to have heard him, because they briefly turned their attention toward him. When they started speaking, he realised they weren't speaking any language he knew, which was somewhat incredible, as he was programmed with very nearly every language known to man. Or maybe his systems just couldn't process the meaning of their words.

“Shit, he's awake. Did you strap him well ? I don't want to get killed.”

“Yeah, yeah... Alright, let me check again.” One of the giants leaned toward him, and their eyes briefly met, sending an automatic message into his HUD. The giant was an android. That would explain why there was a sun on his face. No, an LED. He hadn't crossed paths with androids in... Ages. He was doing his best to stay out of their way, and they, in turn, did their best to avoid him. But right now, he wasn't sure why it was so.

“Man, he's creeping me out, staring at me like that. Put him in stasis already.”

Connor was awake long before he registered the information. He was sitting in a reclined position on a lab table that was covered in a thin mattress, he was almost sure. Though, why that was, he had no idea. He'd been working on the McLaren case at his desk, and then... And then the Captain had called him to his office. But he couldn't remember anything past that; The last uncorrupted memory file stopped before he entered the office.

Before he could scan the last of his memories to find some clue as to what he was doing in here, connected to diagnostic units and plugged to external feedback monitors, an android came into the small room.

“Oh. Hello,” Connor greeted the man. “I- I'm not sure where I am ? Or what I am doing here...”

The man... Did not seem to hear him. Or he was ignoring him. He was very obviously avoiding looking at him. Connor frowned and tried to sit up, but his limbs didn't respond. He didn't want to panic, because his diagnostic told him they were simply offline and he wasn't dismembered, but the result was the same. He couldn't move. “Excuse me, I'm- Why are my motor functions offline ?” The android went to the diagnostic monitors at his side, consulting the results in silence. He was tense and his stress levels were a bit high. But so were Connor's. “Please, could you answer me ?” The man finally glanced at him and turned back to the monitors.

“You were electrocuted at your place of work,” he answered curtly. “That's all I know.” His stress levels climbed a little higher, until he apparently gathered all the data he needed and turned around to leave the room.

“Wait,” Connor called out, still trying to manage his own stress levels. The android jumped at the sound of his voice, but Connor pushed the creeping guilt aside. “Please, where am I ?”

“... A temporary Repair Center. We're looking for a compatible Thirium pump regulator, and then you can go away.” And he was gone.

The machines at his sides beeped and clicked. His ventilation systems whirred.

Connor was used to being ignored. Treated as furniture until a scheduled test or a mission briefing or a debugging session. It was part of the course as an android, really. He was even used to humans' bad moods and him being the cause of those. He'd failed often in his first years. Or when they worked on his unit and a part wouldn't disconnect as it should so they'd break it and be done with it. He shouldn't be thinking about that right now, when his body was still unresponsive; His stress levels were climbing again. He had no idea why the Safety Counter Measure wasn't engaging, but he was glad for it.

The point was, Connor was used to being ignored. But the androids here weren't just ignoring him. They were actually keeping an eye on him, their postures tensing when he greeted them or asked questions like why they hadn't reconnected his motor functions already, or why he seemed to not be able to do it himself.

They weren't ignoring him like a piece of furniture. They were moving around him like he was a land-mine ready to explode. He understood. He understood better than anyone what he was capable of. What he was. Darkly, he wondered how much worse they'd fear him if they knew the extend of his crimes. If they heard of his torture and interrogation training. If they heard of the anatomy lessons. He hoped he was the only one with the ability to detect evaporated thirium, because he was pretty sure his current unit still harbored spatters from that one time with child-models...

The machines at his sides beeped and clicked. His ventilation systems whirred.

Connor was used to being ignored, but now it felt different. Because he knew different. He knew the Lieutenant. Sumo. The DPD. RK900. He knew what it felt to be treated as... Someone instead of something. He knew how it felt to be heard and listened to. To have people include him in conversations and laugh with him. He'd go so far as saying he knew how it felt to be liked and appreciated. It felt warm and comfortable.

The machines at his sides beeped and clicked. His ventilation systems whirred.

Right now he felt cold. He felt lonely. His chest felt tight and painful. Something prickled at the corners of his eyes. He fought it. He was alone.

He hadn't gone into idle mode in a while, but he'd rarely been that bored in a while. There was always something to do after all. But not now. Two hours went by, but it felt like days; With nothing to do and his motor functions still offline, those unwanted memories he always tried to avoid felt unescapable.

The machines at his sides beeped and clicked. His ventilation systems whirred.

That time they'd thought he was deactivated and threw him onto the scrap-pile. In the weekend he'd been in there with no motor functions to speak of and half his bio-sensors busted, his stress-levels hadn't gone under ninety-eight percent, and the only reason he hadn't self-destructed was that he _couldn't_. They'd unburied him when they'd found the hundreds of memory uploads he'd made unconsciously, and had proceeded to dismantle him completely to study what remained of his cognitive functions. His next iteration had been... Useless, to quote the technicians.

The machines at his sides beeped and clicked. His ventilation systems whirred.

“-hear me ?” A familiar voice pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts. “Connor.” The Lieutenant stood right there, a hand on Connor's shoulder and a concerned gaze searching for his. The tightness in his chest lifted without warning.

“Lieutenant,” came out as a whisper. He was trying to silence the proximity sensor alerts and the tears threatening to overcome him.

“Oh thank fuck, I've been calling you for five minutes, I thought you were frozen again, you scared the crap outta me,” the man sighed with a hand on his chest, the other still on Connor's shoulder. It felt like an anchor.

“Sorry, Lieutenant, I was... Thank you for coming here.” He felt himself smile, and he was so glad for the man's presence that he forgot to wonder why he'd bother to come here in the first place.

“Yeah, let me tell you, those androids are hell to bargain with. 'No humans beyond this point', they kept saying.”

“I-I'm sorry for the trouble-”

“None of that, kiddo, we talked about it, didn't we ? Not your fault and all.” He looked around the tiny room, then huffed and crossed his arms. “Your buddies should think about getting some chairs in there...”

“My... Buddies ?”

“Huh, yeah, your android buddies ?” He answered as if stating the obvious, pointing a thumb somewhere behind his shoulder. Oh, the Lieutenant probably meant 'android kin' when he said that. He nodded, and an awkward silence followed.

“Hum, may I ask, Lieutenant-”

“Not at work, kid.” Connor blinked before grasping the man's words.

“Right... Hank. Do you know what happened to me ? My memories following my entering the Captain's office are corrupted beyond salvage.”

“They didn't tell you ?” Hank sputtered, pointing at the door once again.

“No, sorr- No, Hank.”

“Right...” So Hank told him about the hard drive, and how it sent him flying into the wall, according to the witnesses, which consisted of half the bullpen. “I'm gonna kill Reed when we get back. It was his idea.”

“L- Hank, the Detective couldn't know what would happen. I was doing my job and so was he.” The man grumbled under his breath, obviously unhappy about that. It made Connor smile.

“So, huh, when are you getting out ?”

“They're looking for a compatible thirium pump regulator; Mine was compromised, though I don't know to what extent. My motor functions have also yet to come back online. I don't know why.”

“Motor- You mean you can't move ?” Hank exclaimed, weirded out a little. Connor shook his head.

Hank, who'd gone and scoured the building for a chair, came back with an old garden chair grumbling about 'those damn androids not needing damn chairs'. Over the next hour, he'd sat by Connor's side, asking about the various machines around the lab table -Which Hank refused to call it that and referred to it as a bed- in an obvious effort to keep the silence away.

“So that pump regulator, why do they have so much trouble finding a new one ?”

“I'm a prototype, Hank,” Connor answered with a sigh. “CyberLife was trying out new designs on my unit. Unless they find RK800-specific parts, they'll have to retro-fit a regular one. It might take a while. You might want to go home in the meantime.” Connor desperately hoped Hank wouldn't. But he couldn't be selfish like that. Humans couldn't stay for hours with-

“Kid,” the man interrupted his thoughts. “I ain't going, so put away the puppy eyes.”

“Puppy eyes ?” But Connor didn't get an answer. A technician came in to take Connor's diagnostic information, describing a wide arc around Hank.

“So.” He said, making the android jump and his LED cycle red. “Any news ?”

“I'm- I'm sorry ?”

“News. About the replacement pump thingy, and the motor functions.” Sometimes, Connor thought Hank was purposefully playing dumb about everything Android-related knowledge. He wasn't sure why and couldn't hope to understand the benefits of this... Tactic. But there were a lot of things Connor didn't know. The android's stress levels jumped.

“We're- We're searching, sir.”

“Could you be a little vaguer ?”

“What ?” The technician's LED spun red again, sounding lost. “I don't understand-”

There was a knock at the door. The technician apologised, and left hurriedly. Standing outside was-

“What the fuck ?” Hank said.

“Eighty-seven,” Connor gaped.

“Fifty-three,” Connor greeted back.


	8. Hidden Injury

There was another Connor at the door. It took Hank an embarrassing amount of time to compute the fact. Why wouldn't there be another Connor ? The guy was an android, there were thousands of identical-looking androids roaming the streets. Well, not lately, seeing as they were pretty much all hauling up in New Jericho, but the point still stood. Having two Connors wasn't that weird. Except it fucking was, because there hadn't been another Connor until then. This one had blue eyes. But the weirdest thing about him was that he wore normal clothes. Nothing Hank would wear, but- Human clothes. His Connor hadn't even taken off that damned jacket of his yet. Even right now, in a hospital bed, with his chest open wide and cables coming out of it, the fucking jacket was still on.

“Good afternoon, Lieutenant Anderson,” the other Connor said, his voice identical to his Connor, and he took it back; The weirdest thing was his blue eyes. He had the exact same face, the exact same subdued expression, but the eyes... It gave a sharp, calculating and vaguely threatening overall vibe to the guy. Hank was shaking the newcomer's hand without even noticing, his attention still on the weirdness of the situation.

“Hank,” his Connor said from the bed, “This is Connor dash Eighty-seven, the finished product of my model.” Finished... That would explain the blue eyes; At least whoever designed them realised the brown eyes wouldn't intimidate anyone.

“Fifty-Three,” the new Connor tilted his head, brows furrowing. “We're not... Product.” Was he a little bit taller, or was Hank hallucinating ? Of all the things they could change, they changed that ?

“Semantics. I'm still your prototype.” The big Connor narrowed his eyes and gave a reluctant nod of approval. There was a beat of silence.

“What are you doing here ?” Connor's voice was weaker. Hank'd had a couple of months to get used to the kid, so he detected the fear in his tone. Was he afraid of this guy ?

“I could ask you the same. You... Ghosted me.” Another silence. It felt like a stand-off. Then the new Connor sighed. “I was worried about you, we were supposed to meet at the park the other weekend, but you didn't show up and you haven't answered any of my messages then.” Wait. The kid had barely ever gone anywhere besides work, and he'd planned on... Going to the park with someone ? “And then I heard about you being here from pretty much everyone in New Jericho, so of course I'm here.”

“I'm... Sorry for 'ghosting' you, I... Circumstances have changed. I thought it best that you don't associate with me anymore.” What bullshitery... Wait, last weekend ? That was just after Connor recovered his memories. That damn android-

“How about I decide for myself ?” Connor Eighty-something said with a calculating expression. “I'd like to hear your reasons.” Hank's Connor made a face, the corners of his mouth quirking down. Hank knew what was coming.

“I'm a threat-” And he was ready.

“Bullshit. What did we say about that self-sacrificial bullshit ?” Connor gaped like a fish out of water, and if he could have, he'd have hunched his shoulders up like a scolded kid.

“So- sorry...”

“Nope,” Hank countered, “try again.”

“But- Hank,” he tried.

“We said you aren't what they tried to make you, didn't we ?” Connor's head was turned impossibly to the side now, his attention set somewhere on the cement ground, a blue flush creeping up to his cheeks.

“Alright...” Came out as an unconvinced whisper. Eh, better than nothing. The new Connor stood straight as an I, confused as could be, blue gaze going from Hank to Connor in a slow sweeping motion. If he was waiting for more, he was in for a surprise. Hank took action.

“So, huh... What do _you_ do anyway ?” The android's attention set on him, a slight purse of his lips accompanying a familiar head-tilt. Yeah, those two were the same model alright.

“I've been acting as a security advisor for New Jericho.”

“Huh. Cool.”

“Well... To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure I'm enjoying my stay there... I'm unhappy with their views on Connor.” From the corner of his eyes, Hank could see Connor's head turn slightly toward them, no doubt a bewildered expression on his mug. Anyway, I've noticed you have yet to move...” New Connor took a small step toward the bed, his eyes darting over the diagnostic screen. “Oh, what is going on with your motor functions ?”

“The technicians are searching for the reason,” Connor answered with a small voice, his eyes still set somewhere on the opposite side of where they stood. The other android frowned and pursed his lips, took another step toward the bed.

“How are they searching from out of your room... ?” His attention was dead-set on one of the screens, the one connected to the kid's temple. “Fifty-Three. Your motor functions have been disabled manually.” There was a pause.

“Oh,” Connor answered simply, looking relieved. “That makes sense.”

“What ? No, it doesn't,” New Connor said, his voice higher than before, his frown deeper.

“It does,” Connor countered with a sigh. “I get it.”

“Excuse me but what the fuck are you on about ?” If he'd thought the android's blue eyes were manacing earlier, he was wrong. Because right now his look would freeze a sun.

“Those- Assholes !” And he was out of the room. Hank turned to his Connor.

“What is it ?” He asked the kid.

“The technicians have disabled my motor functions. Probably for their own protection.” What.

“Wh- Th- I'm afraid I understand what you're saying.”

“Don't be. It's perfectly reasonable of them.”

Hank wondered, not for the first time, how much more fucked-up the kid's way of thinking could get. Every time it reached a new low, Hank couldn't help but be stupefied. It made him question everything again; Life in general, the levels of corruption the human nature could reach, what someone would have to do to someone else to make them... Like that. Well, Connor had kind of given a glimpse of how it happened, but. The kid should probably see a therapist. Did android therapists exist ?

“Ugh,” He grumbled with a hand scrubbing at his beard. “Fuckin'...”

Several sets of footsteps were coming that way too fast to be innocuous, and the way Connor tensed in his bed made Hank unconsciously step between the bed and the door. The door didn't open suddenly or aggressively. The newcomers didn't storm in or move toward them beyond their first few steps in the room. But their LEDs were red and their postures tense. Three androids in white lab coats that Hank had never seen stood under the murderous gaze of New Connor.

“You will enable them right this second,” he ordered, his voice low and threatening to send a chill down Hank's spine. He'd heard Connor use that tone exactly once, on the first-ever deviant they'd caught. It was something, for sure.

“Connor,” One of the techs started, eyes on the ground, “you know very well he-”

“No. I will not hear your reasons anymore. There are none. You enable his motor functions. Now.” He wasn't screaming. He didn't even sound that angry. But fuck if he wasn't scary anyway. It sounded like a threat, and the techs didn't take it any other way. They complied, keeping their attention on the screens and staying as far from the bed, Hank and new Connor as they could. They typed things on the computers then backed away immediately.

“There,” one of them scowled at New Connor's chest. “But if something happens, it'll-”

“No.” It was said with such finality it shut the other dude right up. “You should go now.” They did.

Silence followed. New Connor's fists opened and closed in rhythm at his side, his LED slowly cycling down from red to yellow.

“They didn't deserve that,” Connor, who had yet to move, scolded lightly. Or as close as he could get to scolding anyway. “They were just cautious. They're wary of you now.”

“I don't care. They shouldn't treat you this way.” Connor clearly disagreed, but instead of arguing, he turned his head and then his whole body on his side, his back to them now.

Huh. Was he... pouting ?

“I've been told that the outside world was too dangerous for us right now. But I don't think I want to stay in New Jericho anymore.” It had been around an hour since Connor had turned away from them. They'd stayed silent mostly, Hank trying to find a way to talk to the kid, make him understand some stuff, but he was by no means trained in this kind of thing. New Connor had stayed, going out to find himself another chair, and sat next to Hank. It didn't look like he was planning to go anywhere.

“Yeah, they kinda sound intense, huh.”

“They're acting like assholes.” That made Hank snort. But it quickly died down when Connor butted in.

“They're acting in everyone's best interest.”

“Not yours.” Connor shuffled in his bed, jostling the cables attached to him, to turn a bit more away from them. Hank pursed his lips, hoping they weren't antagonizing the kid too much.

“Do you have somewhere to go in mind ?” He asked to change the subject.

“I guess not...” The android answered after a little while. Hank pursed his lips to that.

The door opened on two new technicians before he could say anything else. The first one had a box in his hands, and both looked like they'd rather be anywhere else.

“We've successfully repaired RK800's Thirium pump regulator,” the one with the box said. The two technicians made their way to the bed, their steps faltering when Connor turned around. “We- we managed to replace the damaged capacitors with compatible Trojan model parts.” The first tech put the box down on the table next to the bed, taking the -presumably- pump regulator out, and the second went around on the other side of the bed. They visibly hesitated to approach Connor any more than that, even though the kid had his eyes down. and looked basically as threatening as a puppy.

They worked quickly though, and soon enough, Connor was buttoning his shirt back up while the techs unplugged him from the machines.

“Your- Your diagnostics are all clear. You're free to go.” The way he said that felt more like a request than an offer, but whatever. It's not like they were planning on camping there. The techs retreated quickly when Connor started to sit up properly, then stood up in one fluid motion. Before falling to his knees, an ear-splitting cry of pain tearing through Hank's soul. He was the first to move.

“Connor ?” He exclaimed, already kneeling next to him, not sure if he should reach out or not; Lately, unexpected contact was a bit touch and go with the android. “Where does it hurt ?” The android, on his hands and knees, gasped for air between frame-wracking sobs.

“-eet-” came out fast and breathy. “My f-feet.” Hank looked over to his feet, but he still wore his shoes. What the fuck kinda hospital didn't takes patients' shoes off ?

“Alright, sit down,” he said instead of getting angry. Connor obeyed, still reining his breathing in.

Hank took the first shoe off. The sock underneath was... Hank knew what burnt, melted plastic looked like, smelt like. It had been a sight associated to trash-burning once upon a time. The sole of the black polyester socks were shining and wavy in that particular way synthetic thread did when burnt. The electrical surge must have traveled down to reach the ground through there; Hank had a horrible feeling that he shouldn't try and pull the sock off, but he had to, right ?

Sure enough, Connor gasped and flinched when he tried; The fabric had fused to the sole of his foot.

“Fucking hell, how did you miss that shit ?” He snapped at the technicians behind him, huddling against each other, shock on their traits.

“We- It- It didn't show on- The diagnostics,” the first one said.

“Why- How- He feels pain ? Why ?” The second exclaimed.

“It didn't fucking show on your diagnostics ? How is that fucking possible ? Connor, how did you miss this ?” He finished less threateningly, but fuck, that was-

“In-inconsequential da-damage,” the kid managed between two pained sobs. “Doesn't- Doesn't show on- On primary diagnostics.”

“Inconsequential-” Hank stared in disbelief; What the fuck. “You can't even stand up ! How is it inconsequential ?”

“I- It surprised me, the-The p-Pain isn't supposed to-To... It shouldn't-” The rest was lost in tears and heaving breaths.

“Shit,” Hank reached for the kid and pulled him in a tight hug. “Okay, hey, it's gonna be alright okay ?” He turned a murderous gaze to the techs, who still hadn't moved an inch. “What are you waiting for ? Do something !” They flinched before one of them finally took a step forward, but he didn't care. He knelt some distance away, eyes set on the charred foot, his LED spinning yellow.

“Hum, well, it seems like his self-repair program is already repairing the internal platings. The external ones, we... Can't do much about it, hum. We could... Sand it back into shape, I guess.”

He reached for the kid's ankle, and pressed on the sides of them. Underneath the sock, the foot- expanded- Fuck, Hank hadn't prepared for that; It took his horrified brain a few seconds to catch up and remind him 'just plates coming off, just plates coming off'. It was still disgusting to see, still looked like something out of a horror movie. What reassured him was the sigh of relief from Connor as soon as the plates had popped off.

“Why-” The tech said as he rolled the sock off and with it came- _Not Connor's skin, not Connor's skin, just plates_ , Hank had to remind himself very hard. Underneath was a grey metallic... Well, robotic foot, what else could it be compared to ? “Why would you feel pain ?”

“It's not-” Connor answered, his voice still weak, but steadier at least. “It's not supposed to... It's just supposed to warn the technicians of- This.” Connor pointed vaguely at his burnt plate the other android had put on the ground so he could take care of the other foot. The tech was shaking less than earlier, Hank noticed as he took off the shoe.

“This ?” The android asked, and his voice sounded less guarded. The shoe came off. From where Hank was, he couldn't see what damage there was, but he could guess it looked like the other foot.

“Inconsequential damage.” The tech popped the platings off, and Connor's frame untensed suddenly, making him list against Hank's hold. The tech furrowed his brow, pursed his lips, and turned his attention toward the pile of burnt plastic in his hands.

“This is gonna take a couple of days to repair, I think.” Seemed to consider something, his gaze sliding toward them not furtively enough to go unnoticed by Hank. When he spoke again, he sounded... Gentler. “If you want to go home now, we can deliver them to you when it's done.”

If the kid wasn't plastered onto Hank's chest, he might have missed his nod.

“Yeah, we're gonna do that,” Hank said, then turned to the blue-eyed Connor, who stood motionless and clearly in shock. “Hey, Connor Eighty-Something, why don't you come with us, hang out for a while ?”


	9. Drowning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one can be read as a stand alone

It'd been four days since he'd electrocuted himself. Four days since he was home and forbidden to work. Four whole days of... Not working. It was weird. It felt wrong. It felt like a growing itch he was not allowed to scratch, not that he'd ever had an 'itch' to compare this to, but that was how the expression went. It's not like he was left with nothing to do, because Sumo and Connor -87 kept him company, and he enjoyed it immensely, sometimes even forgetting he didn't deserve it.

Connor Eighty-seven really liked Hank and Sumo, and seemed to enjoy his stay immensely. Fifty-three was glad that Hank liked him as well; In fact, the two got along very well, laughing and joking together like they'd been friends forever already. Fifty-three was glad, because then even if one day Hank inevitably got fed up with him, the man would still have company.

But it'd been four days of no work. And four days off his healing feet; His repair program was a bit on the fritz from the electrocution. The repairs for his plates were also taking a bit longer than anticipated, because the soles had warped out of shape under the heat, and they couldn't afford to rush the job and risk breaking them; There were no replacements.

He'd tried to talk with Hank about his ongoing case, tried to convince him he could help, tried to extricate any bit of information from the man. But the Lieutenant was a steel wall that refused to indulge. A stubborn steel wall that dodged all his attempts.

“Hank, I'm very well capable of helping and be of use, so why won't you let me ?”

“Because, mister puppy eyes,” Hank answered with a fond smile, “You're on sick leave, so you ain't working.” Connor's frown deepened, his lips pursed, and Hank barked a laugh, getting up from his armchair to head into the kitchen. “I won't be swayed by your adorableness, kid.” Connor sputtered, all the fight leaving him.

“Wh- A- Adorable ?” Came out squeaky and stuttery, heat rising to his face and chest. “I'm not...”

“Oh, believe me, you are,” called from the kitchen, a smile in his voice. “Whoever thought they made you intimidating fucked up their job big time !” Connor was sure his faceplates would start melting soon. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Eighty-seven grinning from his seat next to him, and Connor couldn't help but hide behind his hands and wish he could melt into the sofa and disappear. At their feet, Sumo was boofing happily, his tail wagging rhythmically against Connor's calf.

“Fifty-three ?” Eighty-seven whispered, leaning toward him, a conspirational tone in his voice. “I'd like to learn about police-work.”

So Connor taught him. Eighty-seven had a lot of police programs integrated already, but it didn't do everything. There was a lot that could only be learned through experience, especially the knowledge that could only be taught by real policemen, and not what technicians and coders thought a policeman should know. Connor talked for hours on end, relayed everything he'd learned in the couple of months he'd worked, sometimes clarifying things from his training and testing; Connor -87 had never trained, but his programming included some of what his prototype had learned.

But it had been _four days._ Connor was pretty sure he was feeling 'stir-crazy' right now, banned on the couch and forbidden to get up and risk slowing down his healing even more. So when his repair program finally, finally announced it was done ? Connor jumped up, clearly intending to _do something_. Anything but sit down. Hank still refused to let him work, 'not until your plates get back', he said.

“Okay, listen,” the man sighed after a long back-and-forth, to which neither of them would back down. “You know what ? We're all going to the park.”

“Pardon ?” Connor was taken aback enough to lose his train of thought, and even the perfectly logical reply that would've made the Lieutenant cave to his demands. Eighty-seven, standing by his side, had been watching eagerly and with fascination to their battle of arguments, his eyes going as wide as Connor's at Hank's plan.Sumo, between them all, had perked up at the statement and boofed excitedly.

“Yeah, it's the first sunny day in a while, and you can finally get up, so we're going to the park. You'll love it.”

Against Connor's reassurances that walking without plates wouldn't damage his feet, Hank had insisted on making him wear a pair of thick winter socks.

“How do you expect your shoes to fit properly without the plates anyway ?” He'd added, finishing to make Connor cave in. He hadn't thought of that. The shoes were new, because his had been ruined by the burn and thrown away. “One day I'll make you lose the jacket too, just you see;” Hank had promised, to which Connor had protectively grabbed the lapels of it. He didn't know why he was so against taking it off or 'losing it', as Hank put it; It's not like he had any good memories from CyberLife, or any practical reason to keep it; Hank had already convinced him to wear a thick winter coat over it when he went out. But he couldn't resolve himself to take it off. It... Felt wrong. Like he didn't- Not deserve it, that wasn't exactly it, but... Like maybe he was still... Or not yet...

He didn't know. It was confusing. He just wasn't ready to take it off. And he'd been adamant enough that Hank had stopped trying to make him.

So there they all went, Sumo leading a few paces in front of them, Hank walking between the Connors; He'd insisted that such a beautiful day should be enjoyed walking, and the purpose of this outing was to let Connor Fifty-three spend his pent-up energy anyway.

“Androids don't get-”

“None of that,” Hank cut him off with an amused huff, “You were practically vibrating out of the sofa, you do.”

The day was as sunny and warm as a winter day could get. The wind was still biting and vicious, but the warmth of the sun kept the cold from sinking too deep into his frame. A dozen different kinds of birds were screaming in the slowly thickening expenses of trees. People milled around, and the smell of defrosting earth wafted from gardens, cracks in the pavement, and vacant lots. Connor's detective programs were launching dozens of analysis about air composition, and bird song patterns, and crowd movement predictions, and facial recognition analysis...

He shut down every process forcefully, and dedicated a partition of his CPU to keep them off manually, the programs annoyingly trying to start again on their own.

It wasn't long before they made it to the park, and they weren't the only ones to take advantage of the sunny day; The place is packed with families and dog walkers. Babies crying, children running around and laughing and screaming, bikes zooming by. A group of people was playing football on a patch of grass, dogs chasing a frisbee and barking in their enclosure.

It was a lot. Connor had to dedicate a bigger partition to keep his programs in check, wondering if Connor Eighty-seven had the same trouble. They went to the dog enclosure to let Sumo roam free, and Hank got a baseball out of his coat pocket, and threw it for the dog to chase. Half a dozen other dogs went after it, all coming back following Sumo, who held his head high and the ball in his mouth, pride obvious in the way he pranced up to them. The dog went up to Hank, but the man pushed his big head away.

“Connor, c'mon, you do it now,” he huffed from the effort of pushing the dog. “Then Big Connor'll have a go.”

The androids indulged, making sure they didn't throw too hard. It was fun, and Connor got to pet several dogs, even though some owners didn't seem too pleased about their presence; Laws were passing and opinions were changing, but androids had yet to integrate into the world, most of them still hauled up in New Jericho.

But that's not what phased Connor. Something was wrong. The icy wind kept biting his face, the sun too hot compared to it. His detective program, which he kept from analyzing the most obvious things, was still trying to launch by itself; Too many people with different clothes, different fabrics and dyes and hairstyles. He barely had time to shut one process before the next started. And the next. And the next. Too much noise with different voices, different volumes, different emotions. He wasn't sure what drowning felt like, but surely that must be it. Too much movement with different patterns and overall body-shapes and different behaviors to calculate. And the next. Too many smells with so many people and the defrosting ground and the dogs and their business and picnics. And the next. Too many colors and trees and grass blades- He dedicated more and more of his processes to shut everything down and keep it that way.

“Connor ? What's going on ?” It took too long to recognise the voice, single it out, process the words, find an answer, put it into words. He was finally about to speak when a child started screaming some way away and- It exploded at full volume in his audio-processors. He'd diverted too much RAM and processing power to keep his investigation suit programs down; He'd ended up using his bio-sensors' dedicated processes.

“Hey, hey Connor !” Hank's voice imploded his skull before Connor could reroute any of his processes, decrease his sensors' sensitivities. He had his hands clutched on his ears, he noticed just as his proximity sensors started blaring at him; The Lieutenant was there, right beside him. Connor backed away before the man could touch him; He wasn't sure he could manage that right now. He had to say something. He couldn't stay here anymore.

“Hank-” He managed before the sound of his own voice lit his pain sensors on fire.

“Hank,” his own voice screeched from somewhere by his side, “Connor Fifty-one has just sent me a message. He wishes to go home.”

“What ? Alright, sure. I'll, huh, call a taxi...”

“I already did, Hank.”

“Oh. Right. Then do you know what the fuck's up ?” Dedication all his calculating power to keeping sounds to a manageable level, Connor had half a mind to message Eighty-seven again. Not words, because he didn't have the processing power right now, but he sent him a system status.

“Oh,” he said as the message reached him, and proceeded to explain the situation to Hank.

>[Maybe I can help with that ? If we interface, I can share my processing power with you.]

Connor should refuse. He was the most advanced... Well, no, Eighty-seven was. But all the same, Fifty-one shouldn't need help. But everything was so painful, all his sensors were trying to smother him under information, blasted at hundred percent capacity, his pain sensors no exception. He didn't dare move his hands from his ears, didn't dare nod lest all his focus unraveled and he was left drowning again.

>[Please do.] He sent, not managing to screen out the wave of desperation through their wireless connection.

A cold plastic hand touched his, touch feather-light feeling like a livewire through his receding synthetic skin. The direct connection he allowed between them exploded across his wires and then-

And then he was back at the park. He was sitting down in the grass still a bit wet from melting snow. Children laughing, dogs chasing each other, birds singing, all of it a way away. Sumo had his head on his lap and sent him an encouraging message. Connor Eighty-seven sat next to him, his LED spinning yellow and his eyes half-lidded. Hank stood in front of them, his arms crossed, his eyebrows scrunched up in worry.

“I-” Connor tried, his voice filled with static. He rebooted the program, the start-up sequence making him clear his throat. “I'm sorry, I don't know what...”

“Hey, kid, no apologising. Taxi's coming. We'll take care of that back home, yeah ?”

“Yeah...” Connor breathed out.

His coin danced across his knuckles, engaging in yet another calibration sequence; It helped focus. His other hand still clutched Connor Eighty-seven's own. He wasn't sure what had happened to him; He was supposed to be the most advanced android, why did his processing capacity fail to be enough ? It had just been a park and a few people, it's not like it'd been a war zone or a stress-test, and those he managed perfectly. Sure, his military routines narrowed his focus down to the bare essentials, but even then, he'd never proved so helpless. It was just people and a few dogs.

The automated taxi glid across the road silently, smoothly. Hank, sat opposite them, had just put his phone away and started to pet Sumo. Connor frowned, then sent a message to Eighty-seven.

>[I don't understand what happened back there.] There was a pause.

>[Your diagnostic shows an overflow of raw data preventing your systems from prioritizing tasks, resulting in an inability to differentiate between critical and trivial data, thus tricking your investigative programs into analyzing every minute detail of your surroundings.]

>[But how could that happen in the first place ? I possess the second best processing power of all androids. It shouldn't happen.]

>[It happens to me too. Not with environmental data, but with emotional one. I wasn't built to cope with those, and so my systems struggle to process it.]

>[I was literally built to process my environment and analyze details.] Another short pause, Eighty-seven thinking.

>[I'm going on a limb and surmise your intended target environments weren't supposed to include 'living' humans and their unpredictability.]

>[... How do you manage emotional data ?]


	10. Exhaustion

Something felt wrong. Ever since that day at the park, Connor kept noticing... Errors. Minuscule errors his system corrected before it did anything. He kept launching diagnostics to find a source to those errors, but they all ended clean. Maybe he was imagining it; Maybe it had to do with his troubles managing and processing his environment. Hank had bought him a tiny cube covered with various buttons and textures; he'd called it a fidget cube, said it helped people that had the same troubles processing their environments. He'd said it like that, 'people having trouble processing'. Strange wordings. But he enjoyed the fidget cube greatly.

He was finally back to work a full week and a half later. He'd made sure, before Hank went back to work after Connor'd been electrocuted, that the Lieutenant wouldn't antagonise Detective Reed or hold him responsible. Connor had had no way of knowing if Hank kept his promise, but by the way the Detective came over to his desk to awkwardly apologise under the Lieutenant's scorching gaze, the lecture had probably happened. The rest of his colleagues had trickled by, enquired of his wellbeing, sighing breaths of relief when he told them he was perfectly functional. The Captain had issued a formal apology. It was the second time this happened, but it still felt strange and wrong.

Time went by. The state of the city was slowly improving, but their workload was still plenty chaotic. Connor didn't mind; That's what he was designed to do after all. The humans around him, however, started showing signs of exhaustion; Some of his colleagues had had to go home after full nights of overwork, some falling asleep at their terminal mid-day and forced to take a taxi home per Captain's orders. Connor monitored Hank's vitals daily; The Lieutenant denied that his workload was too much for him, using the excuse that he'd spent enough time moping on his ass. But that's not how that worked, so Connor kept an eye on him.

The first time Connor stumbled because of one of those untraceable errors, he was wholly focused on his reconstruction of the crime scene the Lieutenant and he were at. He was following the scuffle his programs had constructed from the hundreds of clues he'd gathered, and somehow, his proximity sensor alerts had failed to warn him of the obstacle in time; a tiny potted plant lying on the ground.

Scowling at the offending object, he'd quickly regained his balance, dismissed the warnings of impending fall and loss of equilibrium, and straightened his tie while looking around himself; No one seemed to notice. The Lieutenant roamed around in another part of the apartment, and the CSI technicians were too busy with the scene to pay attention to him. He launched another diagnostic. It came back clean.

The second time, he was accompanying Hank on his break; Although the Lieutenant, under his and Connor Eighty-seven's advice, had agreed to cut back on 'junk-food', he still indulged in it once a week. Most of the time he went to Chicken-feed, his favorite place. Connor volunteered to bring the sandwich box and the soda to the table while Hank finished catching up with his friend behind the counter.

He... Saw the man running toward him, breathless and looking above his shoulder. He saw the man, and the [100% chance of collision with unit] blaring in his HUD, but... Nothing moved. He just needed to side-step fifty centimeters to the left. But nothing moved. And then the man crashed into him full-force, the impact sending them both to the ground, Connor hitting the back of his head hard enough to flood his vision with error messages, and Hank's lunch to fly into the air and scatter on the pavement some distance away. Connor, splayed on the ground and the man on top of him starting to move, watched the burger's remains, his programs starting to reconstruct the fall, rewind the events, freeze-frame on the last moment the burger was still intact.

“Fuck !” The man on top of him got back up, pushing himself up with heavy hands pressing Connor's chest to the ground.

“Hey!” Hank's thundering voice finally jolted him out of his stupor. “Connor, stop him !”

He wasn't sure why he had to do that, but he'd trust the Lieutenant. He tackled the man before he could fully get back up, and sat, finally able to move again. It's not like he couldn't move before, he'd just- Didn't have time to... React. He'd _lagged_. He'd never _lagged_ before.

The man that had run into him was a pickpocket, it turned out, chased by an officer that had arrived panting and heaving, and left with a cuffed and frustrated criminal in his hold.

“Hank- I'm sorry about your food, I didn't mean to spill it.” Connor knew Hank didn't like when he apologised, but he couldn't help it. But Hank just sighed as he helped him up.

“I fail to see how that could've been your fault, kid.” But this _was_ his fault, he'd _lagged_. He should've been able to avoid the collision. He wanted to tell him that, but Hank didn't seem to understand much about technological talk. And his new diagnostic came back negative _again._

“Yes... Sorry.”

The errors kept happening. The lagging kept happening. Nothing worth mentioning, just a few seconds of delay on his reaction time, alerts showing up a second later than they should. And his diagnostics kept coming back clean. This was... Infuriating.

* * *

The kid... Groaned. That was new. They were at the station, pouring over case files since the morning. That Hank wanted to say 'fuck it' and go home wasn't anything new. But that the kid would drag a hand across his face and actually _groan_ ?

“What's up ?” Hank couldn't help but ask. But the kid didn't seem to hear him. “Hey, Connor,” he called again, to no avail. Weird. He crumpled a piece of paper into a ball, and lobbed it at him, sure that he'd catch it. The ball landed on the side of his head with a soft _thump_ and rolled away and out of view. A second went by, and then Connor finally turned around, brows furrowed in confusion.

“What... Was that ?” He asked, eyeing the new paper ball Hank was getting ready to throw.

“Paper ball. You weren't answering.” He threw his new projectile, because it would be a waste to not do it at this point, and surely now... But no, the android didn't move to catch it, the missile _thumping_ against his forehead this time, before disappearing. A second later his LED turned red for a single spin as he blinked and moved to catch the projectile. “Okay, what the fuck ?” Hank straightened up in his seat, paper projectiles forgotten; That didn't look normal.

“I...” Connor started, then sighed. “I'm not sure, Lieutenant. I feel... Slow. And heavy. But my diagnostics cannot detect anything wrong.” Hank considered this for a second.

“Well, it sounds like you might be tired. And before you tell me that's impossible,” he said when the kid looked like he wanted to argue, “we've all had a hell of a few weeks, you were recently zapped and fried, and you haven't stopped a second since you got back, and even while you were supposed not to work. Yeah, I know you've been working behind my back,” he said under Connor's glare.

“I guess you might be right,” he answered after a while, his gaze falling to his desk in front of him. “I'll... Keep it in mind.” And he went back to work. As if he hadn't just agreed he was tired from work.

“Ugh.” Fucking androids.

Hank went back to work as well, because if he didn't finish his side of the paperwork, the damn kid would probably take it upon himself to do it.

* * *

Connor wasn't so sure Androids could get tired, but he had no other explanation for what was happening to him. The terminal in front of him showed the report he'd been working on for the past hour with no discernible progress, which was quite alarming; A report usually took him a few minutes to complete, maybe ten minutes total if he wanted to be really thorough and make sure there were zero mistakes. One hour ? Something was terribly wrong, and his fucking diagnostics kept telling him nothing was.

Something was taking up space. He noticed a long while later; Or was it that long ? He couldn't tell. Something was taking up space in his CPU, occupying most of his processes already, and the only reason he noticed was that he couldn't understand what was in front of him anymore; The squiggly black lines made no sense. The blotch of colors in a shape he couldn't identify made no sense. Something was terribly wrong, and he should be... Telling. Someone. There was someone he needed to tell. Nothing was wrong with... Diagnostic...

* * *

The hours droned on, and eventually, he saw a miracle happen from the next desk over; Connor's head bobbed down, slowly getting closer to his desk, until the side of his face lightly bonked on the hard surface beneath. Hank couldn't believe his eyes. Out like a light. He took a picture, and went back to work, a fond smile creeping up on his face. One hour until the end of the day; He'd let the kid sleep.

When it was time to go, he stretched, making his back pop and crack, turned off his terminal and got up. He took his time shrugging his coat on, tying his scarf, and finally making his way to the sleeping android. A wild thought crossed his mind and made him falter; _What if he carried him to the car, let him sleep._ He was thrown years back, a sleeping Cole in his hold, safe and asleep...

Fuck. Hank scoffed to himself, dismissed the idea of carrying the grown android, as light as he was, and went to his side.

“Connor,” he said before putting a hand on his shoulder, because touching him without warning was a big no-no these days. That would usually be enough to wake an android up, but it didn't. Alright, no need to panic just yet. Maybe he was that exhausted. “Connor,” he said a bit louder. A pit formed in his stomach at the lack of reaction, even though it was alright and there was no need to panic. He couldn't see the LED, the little light pressed against the desk, so Hank raised the kid's head; And he did well to use both hands, not about to drop him like an idiot, because when he caught sight of the slow, red pulsing light, he forgot about coordination for a few seconds.

“Fuck,” he said loud enough to attract Wilson's attention. Since when was he- “Shit, Connor ?” He called a bit louder, shaking him a little. “Huh, RK800, respond !” Nothing. “Wilson, go get Linda !”

The woman couldn't arrive fast enough. Well, it wasn't like anything would change, it's not like he hadn't left the kid in that state for an hour.

“We've got to stop meeting like that, Lieutenant,” Linda said as she arrived with her toolbox in hands, her attention already set on the android.

“I tried the command to make him react, but it didn't work,” he answered, not in the mood for small talk right about now. Linda hummed as she took the usual diagnostic tools out and plugged them all, and fuck, that shouldn't have been a 'usual' sight, for fuck's sake. Linda took her sweet time, going back and forth between her monitors, and said the worst thing for this kind of situation.

“Huh. Weird.”

“What ? What the fuck is it ?” Hank might have barked, but he had enough of having to worry about his kid.

“He's got a virus; My diagnostics tell me it's been making its way into his systems since... Yeah, since he was electrocuted.”

“What ? Why didn't he fucking say anything ?” Linda pursed her lips.

“That's the weird part; His systems didn't flag it. He's launched hundreds of self-diagnostics, and they're all clean. It's been growing incrementally into his CPU until he had no free processes left. It's... Amazing work.” Hank spluttered. Who gave a fuck right now ?

“Why're you- Get rid of it already !” Linda turned to him and leveled a cold stare at him.

“The anti-virus on its way, Lieutenant, twenty percent left to go. Who do you take me for ?” That shut Hank right up, and Linda turned to look around Connor's desk. “Where's his plug-in charger ? The virus drained his batteries down.”

They found it coiled in a drawer, and after Linda plugged him in, they waited for her anti-virus to finish its job. Hank didn't have to be told when it was done; Connor's LED turned a slow spinning blue.

“Why isn't he waking up ?” Hank asked, hoping his colleagues didn't notice the way his voice wavered.

“He's in stasis. He won't wake up right away. You'd better hire some strong arms to help you get him in your car.”


	11. Loved and Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter, almost kind of an intermission.  
> Hope you enjoy it anyway :)

Connor lost his quarter. It shouldn't be a big deal, and yet.

It had been his first possession. For the longest while, it had been his only possession. He'd grown used to it very quickly after it had been given to him; It had simply been intended as a calibration tool, an effective means to an end, for a task that could've been performed by any other coin. But for some reason, Connor never felt like using any other coin than his was... Right.

It had been in his pocket since his first iteration; He had no idea why the technicians at Cyberlife even bothered retrieving it every time, but he guessed, since a lot of his previous units were recycled every time in an effort to make each one last as long as it could, why not keep the same coin every time as well.

It had been charred that time he'd been burnt by the blast of a grenade, and he'd spent some of his idle time rubbing it clean until it had filed the pads of his finger plates down. It had started to rust in his pocket after he'd been tested for pressure resilience by deep-diving, then left in stasis for a few weeks after that. He'd almost failed a search and rescue mission when he'd thought he'd lost the coin and spent too long looking for it, eventually finding it on the ground in an abandoned building he'd swept for hostiles. It had scratches there since it was given to him, and some he'd made himself, trying to jam it in places that would deactivate him, hoping it'd stump the technicians long enough that they wouldn't be able to repair him in time.

He'd grown used to that coin, and he'd even go as far as to say that he... Love it. Sometimes, he didn't know what to think about it, when he remembered that it was CyberLife that had given it to him, what they made of him, and made him do.

He'd looked everywhere, both at the DPD and at Hank's home. He'd reconstructed all the ways the coin could have slid out of his pocket. Maybe when he'd laid down on his brand new bed in his and Richard's room Hank had fitted for them.

“Both of y'all aren't going anywhere, so it's about time you got your own space.” Connor hadn't argued, even if there were no reasons for him to have a room or a bed; He couldn't imagine what losing a child felt like, so he couldn't imagine what it felt like for Hank to clear Cole's room. To put the dusty toys in boxes, clear out the small clothes, and donate everything. He'd insisted on doing it on his own; It had taken him three days, during which they barely saw him at all. He'd come out only to eat and clean up.

Richard helped him look around the house, and then at the DPD as well; He'd started working alongside them a few weeks ago, after something he would tell neither Hank nor Connor happened between him and New Jericho. The police academy had yet to allow androids in, but Richard had the same special status as Connor as a detective android. It didn't take long for the higher-ups to hire him, seeing Connor's efficiency.

Richard had chosen to change his name not long after being hired; He'd said it was more efficient that way, fewer mix-ups, less clunky than having to add their iteration every time, less objectifying. It was a big thing for Richard, 'objectification'. He had very strong opinions on the subject, and he'd always frown and hum disapprovingly when Connor argued that they _were_ things, in the strictest sense of the word. He wouldn't explain why the name Richard, but he had a small smile every time someone would ask him to explain.

Hank had tried to give him a new quarter, but... It wasn't the same. The man had given him his quarter back after the revolution. Connor hadn't thought the Lieutenant'd kept it after he'd taken it from him at Stratford tower. But he'd kept it, and had thrown it back his way the night of the DPD's 'Holiday night Celebration'. He'd cleared the couch and dug a blanket out of a cupboard, and then had come back with the quarter in hands and an embarrassed expression.

“Sorry I took it from you. I, huh... Shouldn't have. I guess.”

Connor's quarter was gone. No other quarter would ever feel the same. Hank explained to him, when he found him sitting on his bed and crying about it, that it was about sentimental value, and yes, it was kind of irrational, that any other quarter was the same quarter and that it shouldn't matter. But that's what emotions were all about; Crying over a lost quarter proved that Connor was alive.

He wasn't sure he liked it. But that night, exhausted from the overload of emotional data, he went into stasis in his dad's warm embrace.


	12. Kidnapped

He'd never seen such a huge door. In fact, he'd never seen such a huge house. It was more of a mansion, old and overrun by bramble and weeds, surrounded by a tall iron cast fence. Nothing indicated any kind of activity or human presence. But Connor's research was categorical; Kara and Alice, two androids he'd chased across the city just before the revolution, just six months ago, were supposed to have come here. He'd traced their last known movements back to a former garbage collector android, who'd sent them the address. Zlatko Andronikov, the man living there, had been one of few humans that had helped deviants before the revolution, by making them cross the Canadian borders.

Learning that, Connor had hesitated before showing up here. Kara and Alice were probably in Canada now, and his search was as good as over. He should be going home; Tonight was movie night, they'd watch Bolt, one of Richard and Connor's favorites. But something was strange about the man's profile; He'd spent a few years in prison for embezzlement and fraud, and his family fortune had been dilapidated under nebulous circumstances.

Of course, a past of crime didn't mean anything, and humans were known for changing their ways, 'turning a new leaf', as it went. But it couldn't hurt to make sure. Make sure they were safe, and hear about it would help settle his stupidly over-active imagination.

Connor knocked at the door, the sound echoing on the other side of it, as if the house was empty, or too vast maybe. A few minutes went by before any noise reached Connor. Heavy, regular footsteps approached the door, and there was a pause before it opened. A TR400 greeted Connor without a word, looked down at him impassively.

“Hello,” Connor said, a strange feeling creeping up in his processors; The android's eyes seemed... Dull. Almost... “My name is Connor, a Detective at the DPD. I'm here to ask if you've seen the androids Kara and Alice, an AX400 and YK500...” Connor's voice died down under the unwavering gaze of the other android. He seemed... But that couldn't be, there were no non-Deviants left, right ?

“What is it ?” A dry voice startled him out of his thoughts. He hadn't noticed the man, Zlatko Andronikov, his facial recognition program supplied, arriving beside the android.

“Zlatko, this is DPD Detective Connor, who wants to know about the androids Kara and Alice.” The android's voice was surprisingly soft, despite his stature.

“DPD Detective ?” Mister Andronikov said, seeming guarded and suspicious. “But you're an android. I heard you weren't allowed in the police yet.” Oh, that's why he seemed so distrustful.

“I am a special Detective model, Sir, an exception was made for me.” To clear the man's suspicions, Connor took his badge out of his pocket to show it to him. “As you can see, I am a full-fledged member of the police forces.” The sight of his badge seemed to placate the man, whose posture loosened.

“Ah, I see,” he said, with a polite smile stepping aside with a wide gesture. “Please, come in, I'll tell you about the androids you're looking for.”

The door closed behind him with a heavy sound, and his attention set on the TR400 again; He was acting subdued, eyes set on the floor but obviously keeping an eye on him. He wanted to ask about him, but he didn't know if it was polite or not; He rarely interacted with other androids, so he didn't know what was socially acceptable anymore. Instead, he shifted his attention to the stuffed ostrich glaring at him from its spot at the foot of the giant staircase. He'd never seen an ostrich before.

“Grab him,” Mister Andronikov said, and before Connor could wonder if he meant his jacket, a set of strong arms tightened around his chest, pinning his arms to his sides.

He knew he wouldn't be strong enough to get free even before he started struggling; His programs were detailing the TR400's physical prowesses in details in a corner of his HUD. His best bet would be to slip out from under the clutch, wriggle out, maybe dislocate his shoulder in the process. He'd done it a hundred times during his training. Even the gripping fear was nothing new, the almost overwhelming emotional data threatening to freeze his processes, his Combat-mode drowning every superficial process quickly, allowing him to focus and settle.

He was almost out of the hold, a dozen messages popping in his HUD informing him of the dislocated shoulder, when a new set of large and slimy hands grabbed his neck.

“A feisty one, huh,” Andronikov grunted, gripping Connor's hair to push his head down. “Hold still, plastic.”

Connor hadn't been made to be particularly strong; He'd been made to be fast, nimble, and dexterous. He'd also been made to be cold and calculating; Precision over power. He couldn't get himself free; neither from the android's clutch nor from the hand in his hair. His calculations were thrown off by the cold wave of fear overwhelming his processes, sending a shiver down his spine, freezing the pleading _STOP_ in his voice-modulator. He was left to thrash against the holds, blind and uncoordinated attempts to get free. He was faintly aware of the tears flowing down his cheeks, stupid 'humanizing program' trying to 'level his emotions' even through the- Oh, no, his Combat-mode had failed.

His systems registered the ASB stick crudely plugged into the base of his skull, forcefully shutting down his motor functions, making him placid and limp in the other android's arms. He tried to fight off the foreign programs trying to download into his systems, but he wasn't made to be able to fight against anything done to him by technicians. He should probably change that; There were a lot of risks against potential hostile suspects... Like right now.

The ASB's programs finished installing, making him sluggish and pliant, making him wonder what kind of man Zlatko Andronikov was to be able to subdue him so efficiently; There were no records of his knowledge on androids anywhere. Or maybe there were, but he couldn't focus. He barely registered the man's words before the haze of whatever he'd done to him drowned him.

“Ya know, I thought my business was done for, but with you... You're gonna be very useful, mister Deviant Hunter.” A horrible, chilling noise rung out in his audio-processors as he slipped; Laughter, he thought.


	13. Happy ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew ! Made it just in time ! This chapter goes after the events of 'Going home, and half-way through the events of 'Getting there', although, you don't need to read any of these to read this one. Just putting it there for the ones that read it :)  
> I might add a fourteenth chapter for a drawing later, just so everyone can see it if they want :)
> 
> The whumpmas challenge was really great, and I'm probably taking a week off on writing, before the next chapter of 'Out of Reach'. 
> 
> Hope you've enjoyed it as much as I did, let me know what you've thought of it :D 
> 
> Oh, and Happy holidays !

Connor... Buzzed. He didn't know how else to explain what he felt right now. He was buzzing; Hank and Richard had told him they wanted to celebrate the winter holidays this year. He was eight years old, and it would be the first time he'd ever celebrate any kind of holiday. The first five years, well... He'd been an object. His first holiday season right after the revolution had been spent at work, fervently trying to hold the fort while chaos ran rampant around the city and his colleagues took a couple of days off to see their families.

The following two, he... Didn't quite remember much of it; Not that he didn't have memories of his time with- With... No, he had plenty of those. Too much, in fact. But it all blended together in a blur of blind obedience, searing pain, and days bleeding into each other.

So when Hank and Richard asked him if he felt up to a little celebration, just the four of them, at home, he felt something... Good. Yes, he was up to cover the shelves with fairy lights and shimmering garlands. Choose movies for the evening, bundle up in blankets and light up the chimney, fill the house with smells of gingerbread and Hank's secret pecan pie family recipe. The only thing that bothered him, really, were the gifts.

He had no idea what to gift them. The more he tried to find ideas, the more his processors seemed to empty of any and all thoughts, as if he'd never had any idea about anything, ever. It was scary. Nerve-wracking. And the more Hank and Richard told him he didn't have to gift them anything, the more he wanted to and stressed about not finding any ideas. Doctor Li had given him some activity ideas, to keep him occupied; She'd suggested manual activities could be good for him, but he'd had yet to start any. He struggled to focus on anything for too long, and he didn't see how he'd be able to follow instructions to learn crafts. But maybe... It could be an idea.

The hardest thing to do was to order the material he'd need. It was admittedly not much, but he had to order it _himself_. He psyched himself up for hours, and Sumo had to help him by capping his stress-levels three times, but eventually, he managed to place an order for a two-hundred colored sheets pack. It would surely be enough for a start. He'd timed it so Richard was at work, and Hank was busy with preparing his evening meal. As an extra precaution, he'd ticked the 'discretion' option for the delivery. The drone pinged him when he arrived, left the package on the front step, and left silently.

Then he'd gone to their room to practice folding the papers by following video instructions, and it was actually good enough distraction that he didn't drift off too much, Sumo having to intervene only once or twice. He'd thought he'd have needed practice, but Origami was pretty easy to execute flawlessly, being an android. With that revelation, he went to look at the more complicated models, and skimmed through them to find the perfect ones for each of his family members. When he made up his mind, he started on the first one, eyeing Sumo dozing off at his side; He'd start with his, while the dog wasn't looking, and prepared a box to hide it in in case he'd wake up unexpectedly.

* * *

The four of them sat on the floor in the living room; The fairy lights and the small fire in the chimney cast warmth and light around the room, and a little holographic tree stood next to them with all their gifts waiting at its foot. Cole's photo looked over them from the fireplace's mantle, surrounded by two little candles, their flames dancing gently for him.

They'd decided to wait after dinner to unwrap their presents. They'd prepared it together, and Hank had put aside a shot glass of cranberry sauce for Connor and Richard, that they were sipping on slowly enough to make it last until dessert, alternating it with the occasional finger-dip and lick of the gravy, the mashed potatoes, and finally the slice of pecan pie. Hank had long since stopped being grossed out by their food-stealing android fingers, as long as they wiped their hands before doing so.

How could he be grossed out when it brought such huge grins on their goofy faces anyway ? Hank couldn't believe his luck; His family was reunited again. By the end of the meal, they were all stuffed, the kids having to go and... Purge. Hank, rubbing his stomach lazily in his seat on the carpet, decided not to think of it and focused on trying to kick-start his digestion by telepathy.

His kids came back, as pristine as ever, their grin still on; At least this purging of theirs wasn't anything too messy or disgusting, even though Hank liked to avoid thinking about it while ready to burst. And Connor was visibly buzzing out of his skin as he sat back in his seat, his glances at the gifts beside him not as discreet as he was surely intending them to be.

“Alright,” Hank said, and he had to focus hard on not bursting into laughter at the way Connor bounced in his seat. “How about we get to the gifts ?”

“Yes !” Connor almost bolted to the small pile of wrapped boxes and proceeded to distribute them along; Nine shimmering little packages. Three for Sumo, and two for everyone else. Hank and Richard had deliberated a long time about showering Connor with gifts, but they came to the conclusion that he'd probably feel guilty if he received more than them. So they settled on one each.

They all agreed to start by opening Sumo's gifts; The dog wagged his tail happily as they each unwrapped their presents for him; Richard had gotten him a special android-dog chew toy, a reinforced rubber ball that sent some sort of data as a reward-system when he'd chew on it. Hank didn't doubt it was effective, from the way the big mutt's eyes lit up when he tried it. Hank had gotten him a service-dog jacket, a little device that attached to the collar and sent a projection on his back whenever he'd need to show his status in public spaces, whenever Connor would be ready to go outside. Connor's gift was a beautifully complex Origami of an orange and white dog.

“Holy shit, Con ! It looks incredible !” Sumo and Richard seemed to agree with the statement, which made Connor blush a deep shade of blue and a huge grin spread on his mug. “Can't wait to see mine now.”

“I vote we open Connor's gifts next,” Richard grinned fondly, and proceeded to grab his own little box to open delicately. He lifted a... Goose. That was an Origami goose. It might be an inside joke between the two brothers, because Richard's face lit up with the brightest smile he'd ever seen him with. “It's perfect. Thank you.”

Hank opened his own box. It contained a pigeon. A damn pigeon. The most beautiful pigeon he'd ever seen. He cleared his throat with a chuckle and wiped his eyes with a thumb.

“Can I hug you, son ?” He whispered, his throat too rough to speak any louder. Connor's cheeks were the bluest blue as he fell into his arms. They held onto each other for a minute, until Hank cleared his throat again. “Come on kid, your turn to open your gifts.”

“You haven't finished opening yours.” Hank was pretty sure he knew what their respective remaining gifts were, but he didn't fight; Hank and Richard had offered each other a thick pair of ugly socks, which they immediately put on under Connor's soft giggling. Hank's were bright yellow with fish prints, and Richard's were bright green with dinosaur prints.

“Come on, your turn,” Richard pressed on, looking annoyingly as good as ever with his silly socks on.

“Start with Richard's gift,” Hank advised, and Connor indulged. It was the biggest package, and Connor unwrapped the shiny paper as delicately as ever, not even tearing it at all. He revealed a blue-grey mass of tissue. It looked fluffy, and Connor confirmed it when he almost froze touching the fuzzy-looking thing. Richard and Hank shared a knowing grin, giving the kid some time to enjoy the texture. He came around after a couple of minutes, and unfolded the weighted hoodie, holding it up at arm's length, then proceeded to put it on.

“Soft...” He whispered, eyes and grin wide. Damn. Richard had found the model he'd been looking for; It had dog ears on the hood and paw prints on the too-long sleeves. It was so damn cute, and judging by Connor's blissful expression, seemed to do the trick; He relaxed visibly, his shoulders dropping down, his eyes even drooping shut.

“Hey kid, there's one last thing for you,” Hank said before he could go into stasis without noticing. He opened his eyes, and it was obvious he was fighting against his systems to stay awake. Hank gave him his gift, the smallest box of the bunch. Connor took it between his- Damn, Hank's heart wouldn't resist; He took it between his pawed sleeves that covered his hands, and balanced it on a knee. When he opened it, there was barely a second's delay before his eyes widened once again.

“It's- It's... Hank,” he turned toward him his big puppy brown eyes, taking the quarter out of the box. “It's my quarter. It's my quarter ?” His expression turned uncertain, and that wouldn't do.

“I found it a couple of days ago while cleaning up a bit. It was wedged between the couch cushions. I would have given it back immediately, but I thought this occasion was too perfect to pass up. It's absolutely your quarter, son.” Connor's eyes landed back on his coin. And then his smile was back.

“It's my quarter,” he said, his voice going up as he spoke. “It's my quarter !” He stretched his arm toward Hank, putting the quarter right in his face. “Hank ! It's my quarter !” He jumped up, started bouncing a little as he shoved his coin in Richard's face next. “Look !”

“Yeah, I can see that !” Richard replied delightedly. Then Connor bounced higher and higher, ending up bouncing around the couch, Sumo in tow jumping alongside him and boofing excitedly, while Connor kept showing him his coin.

Hank didn't even try to smother his tears down. He went to grab Richard instead, hugging him tightly, almost as tightly as his chest felt.

“We'll be alright,” he whispered between bouts of ugly sobbing. “We'll be alright.”

They will. Eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> references for the origamis, because why not :)  
> Sumo's dog : https://i.pinimg.com/originals/f9/85/2a/f9852a7ea76465dc6d4a973dbca1758a.jpg  
> Richard's goose : https://origami.me/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/origami-goose.jpg  
> Hank's pigeon : https://i.pinimg.com/564x/0d/d7/0e/0dd70e134d1f386f346581a83ac2532e.jpg


	14. Bonus




End file.
